Joe Perkins stepped to the plate, gripped his bat, and looked over the field. Shortstop was covering second, and the infield was playing close. Out toward the corner of the Carey building the right-fielder was stepping back. Erskine’s captain had already sent two long flies into his territory, and it wouldn’t do to take risks. Joe looked with longing eyes upon a stretch of undefended territory behind first base and out of reach of right-fielder. If he could bring a low fly down there it was safe for another tally. But the pitcher had himself in hand again. He was more than usually deliberate and the first delivery didn’t lend encouragement to Joe’s hopes, for although that youth, staggering away from the base, sought to impress the umpire with the fact that the ball had gone well inside of the plate, that astute, black-capped person called “Strike!”
The three or four hundred students who, with raincoats and umbrellas, were braving the discomforting drizzle, applauded. Jack, huddled between Clover and Northup on the bench in the lee of the west stand, sighed and took his hand from the folds of his sweater to beat them anxiously on his knees. Clover wiped the rain from his cheek and turned.
“We could use a home run, couldn’t we?”
“You might as well talk about winning the game,” growled Northup, who had overheard. “That pitcher hasn’t given any one a home run yet this season, and you can bet he isn’t going to present us with one.”
“Ball!” droned the umpire.
“Well, I’ll be satisfied with a hit,” sighed Jack.
“You’re wise,” Northup answered with a grin. “There it is again,” he muttered then, as Joe, reaching for an outshoot, swung in the air and stepped back to tap the plate with his bat and look exasperated.
“Say, doesn’t that make you mad,” asked Clover, “to reach for something when you know you shouldn’t, and then get fooled? I’ll bet Cap could bite nails now!”
But Joe got over his annoyance the next instant, and gave his attention to the ball. When it had passed he sighed with relief and silently gave thanks to the little red-faced umpire. It was now two strikes and two balls. Back of first and third King and Gilberth were coaching frantically: