“I’ll do my best, Mac,” said Markwith, with a grin, as he slipped on his glove and went to the box.
The first inning was short and sweet. Remley, the lead-off man of the Cardinals, tried to wait Red out. This was justified perhaps by the fact that Markwith was a trifle unsteady at the opening and had difficulty in finding the plate. His first two offerings were balls. He whipped the third over, however, for a strike and followed it with another. With two strikes on him, Remley lashed out savagely at the next ball and missed it.
“You’re out,” called the umpire, as the ball settled in Mylert’s glove.
Remley threw down his bat in vexation and went grumbling to the dugout.
McCarthy came next, swinging three bats of which he flung away two as he toed the line.
“Put it over, kid, and see me kill it,” he called to Markwith, shaking his bat at him.
Red grinned and floated up a slow one that looked as big as a balloon as it approached the plate but small as a pea when it reached it. McCarthy nearly broke his back reaching for it.
“Strike one,” called the umpire.
“Not so much of a killer after all, are you?” taunted Markwith, as the catcher returned the ball to him.
McCarthy glowered and gritted his teeth as he waited for the next one.