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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Redheaded Outfield"


It was leading the race, and almost beyond all
question would land the flag. In truth, only one
more victory was needed to clinch the pennant.
The team had three games to play in Chicago and
it was to wind up the season with three in
Washington. Six games to play and only one
imperatively important to win! But baseball is
uncertain, and until the Philadelphians won that game
they would be a band of fiends.
``Well, Whit, this is where you break in,'' I
said. ``Now, tip us straight. You've had more
than a week's rest. How's that arm?''
``Grand, Con, grand!'' replied the Rube with
his frank smile. ``I was a little anxious till I
warmed up. But say! I've got more up my sleeve
today than I ever had.''
``That'll do for me,'' said Morrisey, rubbing
his hands. ``I'll spring something on these
swelled Quakers today. Now, Connelly, give Hurtle
one of your old talks--the last one--and then
I'll ring the gong.''
I added some words of encouragement, not
forgetting my old ruse to incite the Rube by rousing
his temper. And then, as the gong rang and the
Rube was departing, Nan stepped forward for
her say. There was a little white under the tan on
her cheek, and her eyes had a darkling flash.
``Whit, it's a magnificent sight--that beautiful
green field and the stands. What a crowd of
fans! Why, I never saw a real baseball crowd
before.


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