“But perhaps I’m wrong,” he hopefully reassured himself. Something told him he was not. A voice seemed to whisper in his ear, “You’re in for it, all right. That is really the same little dark man who caused you so much trouble at home—”
As for the little dark man himself, he sat staring at Irons O, and on his face was a look hard to describe. It was a look in which was mingled hate, contempt and triumph.
“Play ball!” the umpire roared. He was a western man of the old school. “Play ball!”
Goggles threw a switch. He pressed a button. With a circular sweep of his ludicrous head and a broad grin, Irons O lifted his good right arm; then, to Goggles’ utter dismay, swung it around three times instead of once, to at last discharge the ball in the manner of a cannon. The batter and the catcher both saw the action and dodged, each in good time. Quite unembarrassed by the wire screen behind the catcher, the ball went right on through to lose itself on the boundless prairies of the Dakotas. The crowd let out a terrible roar. But Goggles murmured weakly, “Something’s gone wrong again at the very start.”
CHAPTER XIX
A REVELATION IN CHINESE
That something had surely gone wrong with Irons O, the mechanical pitcher, there could be no doubt. After making a hasty adjustment, Goggles and Hop Horner gave him a second ball and one more chance. This time his behavior was worse than ever. Swinging his arm about in a circle four times, he sent the ball speeding over the catcher’s head, on over the low screen netting, and away into the blue.
“Strike!” a big voice roared from the crowd. This was greeted with a wild scream of merriment.
“Our first stop on the grand tour!” Goggles groaned once more. “A failure here, and we’re through.” In his mind he saw the baseball grounds of his home town deserted on Saturday, but crowded to over-flowing on Sunday afternoons. He heard wild shouts disturbing the sober citizens’ rest, saw autos full of pleasure seekers, shouting through the town. Then he muttered low: “We must not fail!”
“Hop!” he exclaimed, “There’s someone back of all this trouble. I’m going to find out who it is.”
For ten minutes both he and Hop worked feverishly, their trembling fingers serving them badly, when a quiet voice from behind them said: “Take your time, boys. Don’t get excited. You are hoping to entertain a quiet peace-loving and patient people. They will not fail you.” The speaker was a little man in steel-rimmed spectacles and a long black coat.