“I’m going to stick it out a bit longer, though,” was the answer. “Ben says it will take time, Jimmy.”
“Yes, and patience,” said Jimmy sarcastically, “the catcher supplying the patience. After you’ve ‘beaned’ a few batters, Dud, they’ll put you in jail as a danger to the community. I’m glad I don’t have to stand up to you!”
Two days after that, March having departed very lamb-like, the cage was abandoned and outdoor practice began.
CHAPTER VIII
A WILD PITCH
April at its best is an uncertain month, and April this spring lived up to its reputation. No sooner had the baseball candidates grown accustomed to the feel of soft and springy turf under their feet than a three-days’ rain began and they were forced to retire again to the dim and unsympathetic cage. The track and field candidates defied weather conditions until the cinders held pools of water and the pits became of the consistency of oatmeal porridge. Then the sun shone forth again and, after another day of indoor confinement, the players once more trailed down to Lothrop Field. The diamond was far from dry, but the sun was warm and a little south-east breeze promised its best efforts. Candidates for the second team were called out that afternoon, and Jimmy, whose status with the first was still a matter for conjecture, thought seriously of returning to the fold. Dud, however, refused to sanction the step and so Jimmy grumblingly stayed where he was.
“I know just how it’ll be, though,” he said pessimistically. “They’ll keep me here until Crowley’s got his second team all made up and then they’ll drop me. Oh, all right!” He stretched his legs and leaned more comfortably back against the railing of the stand. “After all, it’s too nice a day to do anything. I pity those poor dubs out there catching flies and wrenching their arms throwing the ball in. Me for the quiet, untroubled life of a substitute outfielder. You’ll have to go in and pitch pretty quick, Dud; Pete’s got his eye on you now; but I’ll just sit here and keep this bench warm and——”
Jimmy’s remarks were rudely interrupted.
“Hi, Logan!” called Mr. Sargent. “Go on out there to left and get your hands on some of those flies. Lively, now! Send Boynton in.”
Jimmy arose with alacrity, casting a despairing glance at Dud, and ambled off. Hugh Ordway, seated further along the bench, got up and joined Dud.