In this instance he waited and feinted at
balls and fouled strikes at length to work his base.
When he got to first base suddenly he bolted for
second, and in the surprise of the unlooked-for
play he made it by a spread-eagle slide. It was a
circus steal.
Delaney snorted. Then the look of profound
disgust vanished in a flash of light. His huge face
beamed.
Reddie Ray was striding to the plate.
There was something about Reddie Ray that
pleased all the senses. His lithe form seemed
instinct with life; any sudden movement was suggestive
of stored lightning. His position at the
plate was on the left side, and he stood perfectly
motionless, with just a hint of tense waiting
alertness. Dorr, Blake and Babcock, the outfielders
for the Grays, trotted round to the right of their
usual position. Delaney smiled derisively, as if
he knew how futile it was to tell what field Reddie
Ray might hit into. Wehying, the old fox, warily
eyed the youngster, and threw him a high curve,
close in. It grazed Reddie's shirt, but he never
moved a hair. Then Wehying, after the manner
of many veteran pitchers when trying out a new
and menacing batter, drove a straight fast ball at
Reddie's head. Reddie ducked, neither too slow
nor too quick, just right to show what an eye he
had, how hard it was to pitch to.
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