The game was in the second inning, with the regular team at bat and Hooker pitching for the scrub, which was made up partly of grammar school boys. Everybody seemed to be watching Roy, and Phil walked on to the field and toward one of the benches without attracting attention.
"Look at Hook!" whooped Chipper Cooper. "He's actually trying to strike Roger out!"
Eliot was at bat, and the umpire had just called the second strike on him. There were no runners on the sacks.
"He struck aout Tut in t'other innin'," drawled Sile Crane. "I guess that's got him puffed up some."
Apparently not at all discomposed by these remarks, Hooker continued steadily about his business, and presently, rousing a shout of surprise, he succeeded in fanning the captain of the nine. Roger stepped back from the plate, after striking out, and stood there gazing at Roy, with one of his strange, rare smiles.
Crane followed. "Dinged if I wouldn't like ter see him fan me!" he said.
A moment later Hooker pulled him handsomely on a wide one, and the first strike was called, Cooper being again awakened to a wondering, whooping state of merriment.
"Look out! look out!" shouted the little fellow. "He'll get you if you don't. Who said Hooky couldn't pitch? There's more pitch in him than you can find in a big chew of spruce gum."
Crane, setting his teeth, made two fouls, and then sent Chipper into real convulsions by whiffing at a high one which Roy whistled across his shoulders with surprising accuracy.
"You wanted to see it," yelled Cooper. "You got a look, all right. Oh, say! Where did this new Christy Mathewson come from, anyhow? Look out for him, Roddy, or he'll add you to his list. List' to my warning."