Absorbed as he was in one phase of the game,—the success of the second battery,—Rob felt no anxiety at all as to his own personal record with the bat. He wanted to hit O'Connell, of course, but the chief thing after all was that Patterson should not be hit. So he stood coolly at the plate, ready for anything that O'Connell might send in, but unworried and more than half expecting to get his base on balls. The first one was high, the second he had to dodge, the third was a called strike, the fourth a drop that dropped too far, the fifth an unmanageable in, that hit him in the small of the back as he squirmed away from it, and gave him the desirable gift of first base and the undesirable one of a painful bruise.

Allis strode up, pounded the plate with his bat, and squared himself, with legs apart, for a mighty deed. While Rob knew nothing of Allis's powers,[Pg 176] he did not like this form; and not wishing to be cut off at second by an infield hit, he determined to make a dash at the first pitch, when a steal would hardly be expected. So off he scampered at the first movement of O'Connell's arm, and covered his distance so well in spite of his bruise that when he slid safely to the bag, McPherson was in the air taking Borland's high throw. In other respects also the venture proved a lucky one, for Allis hit two fouls and then struck out, and Rorbach made a scratch hit to short that would certainly have cut Owen off at second if he had clung to first base. As it was, Rorbach was safe at first, and Rob reached third before the ball got back across the diamond. Then Reddy McGuffy sent up a little pop fly to the first baseman, and long Ames appeared beside the plate, swinging his bat like an axe.

The lads on the seats made merry as Ames smote terribly and in vain at the first one over. The next he let go by; it was a ball. At the third he smote again, this time with effect. The ball shot out over first baseman's head, bounced hard on the running track, and made full speed for the corner of the field.

[Pg 177]

Then for some seconds the onlookers saw lively running. Peters in right field sprinted for the ball, the second baseman ran out to support him, Rob trotted home, Rorbach fled along two bags behind him, and still farther behind came Ames, galloping like a cart horse and constantly twisting his head backward to make sure that the ball was not close at hand. The fellows who had been jeering were now stamping and yelling, the players of the Second were running up and down the lines, brandishing their arms and shouting contradictory directions. Ames rounded third base at full speed, saw the ball bounce into Borland's hands, stopped, turned,—and was touched ignominiously out by Durand two feet from third. And then the spectators hooted and jeered more violently than ever.

"If it keeps up like this, there'll be more fun than practice," thought Rob, as he buckled on his protector. And to Patterson, as the latter started for the box, he said: "Don't worry about the bases; I'll throw to them when it's necessary. Just try your hardest to put 'em where I want 'em, and don't worry. If a batter's slow or timid,[Pg 178] give him full speed. And don't think because one happens to hit you they all will."

McPherson led off for the First nine. Patterson fixed the ball in his two fingers and drove it hard and straight over the inner corner of the plate just below the shoulder line. It struck with a resounding clap in Owen's big mitt, and as it struck, McPherson realized that he had lost a chance. As the next one looked exactly like the first, McPherson whacked valiantly at it, but just before it reached the plate the ball broke and lifted, while the bat swept the air beneath it. Two strikes!

"It's all his way now," thought McPherson. "This'll be a ball,"—and it would have been if it had kept its first course. Unfortunately for the batsman, however, it slanted down and in instead of down and out, and the umpire called it a strike.

"Astonishing how a man loses his batting eye during the winter!" thought Poole, as he took McPherson's place at the plate. "If I can't hit that fellow I must be blind."

Now the captain was considered the best batter[Pg 179] in school, and deservedly so. In the fatal Hillbury game of the year before he had proved almost the only Seaton man whom the Hillbury pitcher could not deceive, and he and McPherson were responsible for all the hits the defeated team had made. He had an excellent eye, watched the ball closely, and was a patient waiter. All this Owen knew. He also knew that a waist ball was the kind Poole always longed for, that he was wary on high ones, and often hit a low one in a long fly. Patterson's first attempt was clearly wide of the plate; his second was low. Poole offered at neither, and both were called balls. By the next ball, the same full-speed straight one which had fooled McPherson, Poole was caught napping, and the sharp "Strike one!" of the umpire gave comfort to both members of the battery. Rob now signalled for the slow ball, at which Poole struck too soon. With two balls and two strikes, Patterson put a low one over the outside of the plate, hoping to finish with the captain immediately; but Poole caught it on the end of his bat and sent it in a long arch to centre field, where Rorbach gathered it in. Sudbury, who came next,[Pg 180] struck at the first pitched ball and raised a pop fly, which the second baseman, to Owen's surprise and McGuffy's own immense satisfaction, managed to hold. Reddy tossed the ball over to the pitcher's box with the best air of a professional, and strutted complacently in. The first inning had ended with the score two to nothing in favor of the scrub.

O'Connell pitched six times to strike out Smart. Meanwhile, Owen and Patterson discussed the situation.

"Great luck, wasn't it!" began the pitcher, eagerly.

"The greatest luck was that McGuffy held that fly," Rob answered with more coolness. With all his interest in the trying-out process, habit and experience kept him philosophical. "I didn't believe he'd do it."

"He may be better than he looks," said Patterson.

Rob had no answer for this. "How's your arm?" he said.

"All right. I can give you a little more speed if you want it."

[Pg 181]

"We shall have to be careful about Durand. The rest ought to be easy."

Smart returned to the bench, having surrendered his place at the bat to Peacock. Owen took a seat beside McGuffy. "You understand that you are to cover second if a man on first tries to steal, don't you?"

"Of course!" answered McGuffy, indignantly.

"I simply want to avoid a misunderstanding," retorted Owen. "I don't care to throw to centre field."

Peacoc............