"There he goes, Mr. Umpire," cried Roger. "He's talking to the batter again."
"Oh, say, forget it!" scoffed the red-headed backstop. "I'm talking about our pitcher. He can't pitch a little bit—oh, no! He just dreamed he could, that's all. Put another one right over the pan, cap; there's no danger."
But Sanger, taking Copley's signal, bent one wide, and Phil fouled it off into the first base bleachers, where it was deftly caught by a spectator.
"He's in a hole," said Copley. "I wonder how these people ever got a hit off you, Sang."
The batter tried to steady himself. Two "teasers" he disdained, and then bit at a drop and was out, Sanger having fanned the first three men to face him; which seemed to justify the Barville spectators in breaking forth with their horns and bells at last, and they did so tumultuously.
CHAPTER X.
THE CRUCIAL MOMENT.
On the bleachers Roy Hooker breathed easier. "Len Roberts certainly told the truth," he thought. "Sanger is a crackerjack pitcher."
"What did you say?" asked a fellow at Roy's elbow.