Something did happen; but not what Tom expected. Billy Burns, in the outfield, running after a deep fly to centre, made a dive for the ball at full speed, stumbled, fell headlong, but held up the ball in his hand.
“Batter’s out!” cried the umpire.
The loyal rooters cheered. Billy, however, lay flat, and when, after a moment, he tried to get up, he sat down quickly again.
The other fielders ran over to him and stood him up between them. Billy held up one foot, put it down, gave a groan. “Twisted my ankle, I guess,” he muttered. He tried to take a step forward. “No go,” he added. “Hang it all, just my luck!”
Two fielders brought him in between them, Billy hopping on one foot. The Tigers held a consultation, while the Amoussocks threw the ball around. Then Sam Noyes, the Tiger captain, stepped over to David. “Billy’s down and out,” he said. “He can’t play any more. But he says you think you can hit their pitcher; and you’re from Barmouth, so that’d be all right. Want to take Billy’s place?”
David glanced up. He knew by the look on Sam’s face that the Tiger captain didn’t believe he could bat any better than the others. “All right,” he answered. “I didn’t mean to boast, you know; but I’ll do my darndest.”
“No one can do more,” murmured Tuckerman behind him.
David peeled off his coat and put on Billy’s glove. He lumbered out to centrefield while Sam Noyes explained the substitution to the Amoussock captain.
In the last half of the sixth inning David came to bat. Lanky Larry patted the ball caressingly, surveyed the new player from head to foot, and then grinned as if he had suddenly remembered a tremendous joke. David dug his feet into the earth of the batter’s box, wishing he had on the cleated shoes he wore when he played on his school team, swung his bat—one he had carefully selected from the varied assortment offered by the Tigers—and then grinned as if he also had thought of something very funny.
“I say, what’s the joke, you two fellows?” sang out a man who was standing back of the benches.