Wells, the first batter, fouled out; Stamford hit
an easy bounce to the pitcher, and Clews put up
a little Texas leaguer--all going out, one, two,
three, on three pitched balls.
The teams changed from bat to field. Wayne
faced the plate amid vociferous cheering. He
felt that he could beat this team even without good
support. He was in the finest condition, and his
arm had been resting for ten days. He knew that
if he had control of his high inshoot, these
Bellville players would feel the whiz of some speed
under their chins.
He struck Moore out, retired Reed on a measly
fly, and made Clark hit a weak grounder to second;
and he walked in to the bench assured of the
outcome. On some days he had poor control; on
others his drop ball refused to work properly;
but, as luck would have it, he had never had
greater speed or accuracy, or a more bewildering
fast curve than on this day, when he meant to
win a game for a girl.
``Boys, I've got everything,'' he said to his
fellow-players, calling them around him. ``A couple
of runs will win for us. Now, listen, I know
Mackay. He hasn't any speed, or much of a curve.
All he's got is a teasing slow ball and a foxy head.
Don't be too anxious to hit. Make him put 'em
over.''
But the Salisbury players were not proof
against the tempting slow balls that Mackay
delivered.
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