“I can pitch some,” he said, in matter-of-fact tones, stepping out of the line. “I’ll try, if you like.”
“Go ahead then,” said Hanson. “It isn’t necessary to pitch curves; just get an occasional ball over the plate.”
The head coach went over to the other net and Jack took the place of the retired pitcher. He hadn’t tried pitching since the summer and his first ball went very wide. The line of waiting batsmen grinned; some even laughed audibly.
“That’s a great deal better,” remarked one of them with fine sarcasm, and the laugh became general.
“That’ll do, Showell,” exclaimed Bissell. “We don’t need your opinion.” Showell, a junior, and the fellow whom Jack had ousted, grinned sheepishly under the amused glances of the others and Jack settled down to business. After a few poor balls he got his hand in again and Bissell nodded approvingly. One after another the candidates took their places in front of the net and stayed there until they had made clean hits. Jack did not attempt to puzzle them, for at this time of year, despite the practise in the cage, batting work was still pretty poor. He delivered straight balls as slow as possible and the line moved along quickly. When Showell took his place, however, Jack remembered his sarcastic remark and resolved to make the former pitcher earn his hit. He attempted no curves or drops, but sent the first ball very straight over the square of wood that did duty as a plate. But if it was straight it was also swift, so swift that Showell merely looked at it go by and then glanced inquiringly at Jack as he tossed it back to him.
He gripped his bat afresh then, and waited the next ball confidently. It came, and was, if anything, swifter than the one before. Showell struck at it hard, but was half a foot too late. The watchers began to guess what was up and looked on interestedly.
“Shorten your swing, Showell,” directed Bissell. “You were way too late then.”
Showell’s face took on a deep red and he gritted his teeth as Jack slowly and calmly threw up his arms for the next delivery. Again the ball came straight and fast over the plate and this time Showell struck an instant too soon and the sphere glanced up off his bat, bounded against the hood of the net, and came down on his head ere he could duck. He picked it out of the dust and tossed it back with no pleasant expression. The line was grinning appreciatingly by this time, but Jack’s face showed neither amusement nor interest. Again Showell struck and missed miserably.
“What are you pitching, Weatherby?” Bissell asked suspiciously.
“Just straight balls,” answered Jack, simulating surprise.