“Wonder what they’re doing here,” puzzled Joe.
“Rogues naturally drift together,” said Jim. “I heard some time ago that the bunch was playing with one of the semi-pro teams in the Pittsburgh district. But they usually play only on Saturdays and Sundays, so I suppose they’re choosing this way to spend their off time. I suppose if we could hear what they’re saying about us at this moment, our ears would be blistered.”
“Whatever it is doesn’t matter,” laughed Joe. “They made acquaintance with our fists once, and I don’t think they’re anxious to repeat the experience. But I guess we’d better pick out catchers and begin to warm up. I’ve a hunch that the Pirates are going to pitch Miles to-day, and if they do we’ll need the best we have in stock to turn them back.”
By the time the bell rang for the beginning of the game, the stands were black with spectators. The Giant supporters were comparatively few, but they made up in vehemence what they lacked in numbers.
From the beginning it was evident that the game would be a pitchers’ duel. Miles was in superb form, and up to the ninth inning had only given three hits, and these so scattered that no runs resulted.
But Joe was in the box for the Giants and was pitching for a no-hit game. Up to the ninth, not even the scratchiest kind of hit had been registered from his delivery.
Could he keep it up? The crowd waited breathlessly for the answer.
With Burkett, Barrett and Joe at the bat for the Giants in their half of the ninth inning, it looked as though the nine might have a chance to score.
But Miles had turned those same batters back earlier in the game, and he nerved himself to repeat.
“Murderer, are you?” he sneered, as the burly Burkett came to the bat, and referring to a nickname gained because of the many balls “killed.” “Well, see me send you to the electric chair.”
“Aw, pitch with your arm instead of your mouth,” retorted Burkett. “You’re due to blow up anyway. You’re only a toy balloon, and I’m going to stick a pin in you.”
But Miles had the last laugh, for he fanned Burkett with three successive strikes, and the latter went sheepishly back to the bench.
“That pin must have lost its point,” Miles called after him. “I knew you were bluffing all the time.”