“What’s the matter, Matson?” asked McRae, as the Giants came in to bat.
“Oh, I’m all right, I guess,” answered Joe. “I’ll steady down in the next inning. I guess I didn’t warm up enough.”
The Giants were quickly disposed of for a goose egg and Joe again took his place on the mound. He walked out to it a little unsteadily, a fact that McRae’s keen eyes were quick to notice.
“If that were anybody else than Matson, I’d say he’d been drinking,” he remarked to Robson.
“Nothing like that,” replied Robson. “We’ll see how he makes out this time.”
But the very first ball he sent over, Cravath, the chief slugger of the Phillies, knocked clear over the right field fence for a home run.
A fusillade of hits followed until the bases were full.
“Look here, Matson,” said McRae, sharply, walking over to him. “What’s the matter with you? They’ve put the game on ice already. Take a brace, man.”
Shouts of derision came from the Phillies’ bench.
“He hasn’t anything on the ball but his glove!” one of them jeered.