Jack, who during the inning had had nothing to do, trotted in and examined the score-book over Patterson’s shoulder. He found that he would be the third man at bat, and wondered a bit nervously whether he would have any better success with the mighty Vose’s curves than had his predecessor, who was now sitting weary and dispirited on the bench. King, who during the first half of the previous inning had been limbering up his arm, was put in for Tracy, and Lowe took his place in left-field. Tracy sprawled himself down on the grass beside Jack with a sigh.
“I wish to thunder I’d been able to hit that dub Vose just one!” he growled.
“What’s he like?” Jack asked.
“Like a Chinese puzzle,” Tracy replied grimly. “When you try him, Weatherby, look out for his drops; they’re the worst; they come straight to about four feet from the plate, then they go down so fast that you can’t see ’em. His inshoots are simple compared with those drops. Watch for fast balls, and when you see one coming, slug it! Make him think you can’t bat, Weatherby; it’s your first time up, and maybe you can fool him.”
“I’ll try,” Jack answered dubiously. “Good work, King!”
King was speeding to first, having made a clean hit to the outfield just over shortstop’s head. The Erskine stand burst into wild and confused cheering. Northup selected his bat and went to the plate, and Joe Perkins, after whispering directions into his ear, ran to the white line back of first base and began coaching King at the top of his lungs. Vose settled the ball in his hands, tapped the earth with his brass-toed shoe, and glanced sharply toward the runner.
“Play off, Greg!” shouted Joe. “He won’t throw! He’s too tired! Now, now, now! This time! Look out!”
King scuttled around back of the bag and reached it before the baseman swung at him with the ball.
“Hold it, he’s got the ball!” cautioned Joe. “All right, now; on your toes. Down with his arm! He won’t throw again!”
Vose looked as though he intended to, then turned quickly and pitched. The ball went wide, and had it not struck Northup on the hip would have given King two bases, since the Robinson catcher would never have stopped it. As it was, King, who was almost to second, trotted back and tagged base. The umpire waved his hand to Northup, and the latter went limping to first. King jogged to second, and the Erskine cheers drowned every sound for several minutes. Two on bases and none out! It looked like a tally.