Next Frank drove a liner to Carson, who was on third, and the Westerner took it with out-thrust hand.
Berlin lined it across the diamond in a very pretty manner.
Hodge was waiting, and the ball plunked into his mitt.
Bart’s throwing to second was a feature of any game. His short-arm throw was perfect, and he could line a ball down to the second bag without getting out of his tracks.
“Oh, Laura!” murmured Ready, as he took the throw. “What a peach!”
Jack sent it back, and his throw was almost as beautiful as Bart’s, but he made harder work of it.
Base-running, batting, and signal practise followed. The team this year had a complete signal system, so that every man could tell just what was to be done or tried without a word being spoken by anybody. From the bench, the box, or the coaching-lines Merry could give directions, and he was sure an attempt would be made to follow them. If two runners were on the bases, one on first and one on second, Frank could make a signal that would cause the batter to “take one,” while both runners knew they were to try a “double steal” on the first delivery, and they started together with no misunderstanding. Even if one of them were cut off, the other was pretty sure to advance a bag. A sacrifice could be called for by a signal, a man could be directed to bunt or to try to place the ball in any particular field. When Frank was pitching he simply assumed certain positions that caused the fielders to move to the right or left, to play short or long, brought the infield in or sent it out, and every player knew just what the kind of a ball he was going to deliver.
But now the disagreement over Mason threatened trouble. Frank knew the feeling of distrust, and lost confidence was the very worst thing that could assail a ball-team, and he was doing his best to give the Southerner a chance to restore confidence to some extent.
Mason never worked harder in a game. Not even once did he drop a ball he could touch with his hands. He ran in for them and ran out for them. He dug them out of the dirt, pulled them down out of the sky, and took them over his shoulder. When it came to batting he seemed able to hit anything that might be called a strike. He ran and slid bases handsomely.