“That’s not bad,” laughed Walker, “and I dare say that’s what he will do. Well, I’m off. Hope you get into the game, Borden.”
After he was gone Jack drew his hand from his pocket, unwrapped the handkerchief and examined his wound. It looked pretty ugly, for the blisters had broken and the flesh underneath was red and inflamed. The only thing Jack had found to apply was peroxide of hydrogen. Sam had a bottle of that and Jack had filched a little before breakfast when Sam wasn’t looking. Jack didn’t want even Sam to know about his burn; it was best to be on the safe side. If it got to Dolph’s ears or to Shay’s they might make a lot of it and not let him play. Of course it _did_ hurt, but then it wasn’t anything to interfere with his catching or batting. Meanwhile, he concluded, he would go back to the room and if Sam wasn’t there put some more peroxide on it.
Dinner for the nine and substitutes that day was a half-hour earlier than usual, for the game was to start at two-fifteen. Every fellow made a good pretence of eating heartily, but few of them really consumed enough food to satisfy a healthy baby. The heat continued, although there seemed a little more breeze stirring than earlier in the day, and many anxious looks were cast at the sky. But the thunder clouds didn’t materialize. At a little after one the Towners and their friends began to arrive and at half-past the nine went to the gymnasium to get into their togs. Dolph was looking a bit pale and acting fidgety, and Mr. Shay was very quiet and earnest. When the fellows were ready for the field he called them around him and made a little speech. It was quite the usual thing, only it sounded a deal more important to-day, and the fellows listened very quietly to it. And when he had finished he took his little red memorandum book from his pocket.
“Here’s the batting-list for the game, boys,” he announced. “Warner, first base; Smythe, shortstop; Jones, catcher; Truesdale, center field; Borden, right field; Turnbull, second base; Cassart, third base; Wicks, left field; Phillips, pitcher. All right now; come on!”
As they made for the door Sam thumped Jack on the back.
It was not until the beginning of the second inning that anything happened, although in the first Chase got a runner to first on a single. But Ted threw him out at second when he tried to steal, and the next two went out easily. Maple Ridge retired in order. In the second inning Brothers, Chase’s second baseman, singled to right, went to second on a neat sacrifice and got third when Sam made his only error of the game, a poor throw to second in the hope of catching the runner off base. The next batter went out on an infield fly, and with two down Maple Ridge breathed easier. Out in right field Jack pulled his cap further over his face to keep the broiling sun out of his eyes, shifted a few steps to the left as the next batsman faced the pitcher, and waited. Two balls went by and then there was a hard, solid _crack_ and the ball was arching out toward him, high against the glaring sky. He ran back a few yards, turned, faced and waited. Down came the ball and up went Jack’s hands.