“Perhaps. And how about the hard sluggers?”
“Oh, well, there’s Motter, and Billings, and——”
“Yourself; you’re a better batsman than either of them, Greg. But there’s no use in running down Hopkins; he’s a wonder at the bat; and we’ve got to get busy and turn out a few fellows like him. Saturday there wasn’t more than three decent hits made in the whole idiotic game.”
“My cheerless friend, please forget Saturday,” begged King. “It wasn’t nice, I know, but it showed up the weak spots, and that’s something to be thankful for.”
“Not when there’s nothing but spots,” lamented Joe.
“Besides, we kept them from scoring; and for a while it looked as though we couldn’t.”
“And even that was just a piece of good luck.”
“Good luck? Why, it didn’t seem so to me. I never saw a fielder look more certain of making a catch than Weatherby did. And the way he pulled down that ball was mighty pretty, too.”
“I don’t mean that it was luck for him; I mean that it was just by luck that I put him in your place when you went into the box; I almost sent Lowe out there. If I had it’s dollars to cents he wouldn’t have judged that ball so as to have caught it.”