“Look here!” exclaimed Joe, who disliked as much as any one being laughed at, “what have you got against me, anyhow? Are you afraid I’ll displace you as pitcher?”
“What’s that? Not much. You couldn’t do that you know,” and Sam laughed again.
“Then what do you want to be so mean for?” asked Joe.
“None of your business, if you want to know,” snapped Sam. “But if you think you’re going to get on our team you’ve got another think coming. Look out, now, don’t break the fence with those balls, or the fair committee might make you pay for it,” and with this parting insult Sam rode out of the grounds.
Joe’s heart was beating fast, and he clenched his hands. He would liked to have gone after Sam and given him a well deserved thrashing, but he knew that would never do.
“I’ve just got to grin and bear it!” murmured Joe through his clenched teeth. “If the fellows laugh at me I’ll have to let ’em laugh. After all I can stand it, and I do want to get on the team.
“Queer why Sam Morton should be so down on me. I don’t see his reason unless it’s jealousy, or because he’s mad at me for running into him. Maybe it’s both.
“Well, there’s no use practicing any longer. My arm is tired, and besides he might be hiding behind the fence to laugh some more. I’ll have to find a different place if I want to practice getting up my speed and curves.”
Picking up the balls and his books Joe slowly made his way out of the grounds. Sam Morton was nowhere in sight, for which the young ball player was glad.
“Maybe this will end it,” thought Joe. “He just wanted to amuse himself at my expense.” But our hero was soon to find that the vindictive spirit of the pitcher was not quelled.