“It wasn’t my fault,” protested Chester. “We had him locked up so he _couldn’t_ get out! And Perkins was there watching him!”
“Well, he _is_ out, isn’t he?” demanded Milton Wales angrily. “What have you got to say to that?”
Hal Morris yielded the ball to Sam with a weary smile.
“I’m afraid I’ve got things in a mess, Sammy,” he said. “It’s one strike and three balls on him. Gee, but I’m glad you’ve come. About one more up would have completely finished me.”
“Well, you must have done good work, Hal, to keep those Indians down to five runs. Run along now and don’t worry. I’ve got a score to settle with these chaps.”
Sam waved Joe Williams out of the batsman’s box and proceeded to warm up to Dolph. A couple of the balls he sped in were pretty wild, one going by Dolph into the crowd, and the Towners howled derisively. After all, Sam had had no chance to limber up, and, clever as he was, it was well-nigh impossible for him to shut them out with three on bases and none down! So the Towners took heart and shouted and sang and made all the hubbub possible.
“Play ball!” commanded Mr. Shay. “One and three, Phillips.”
Back of first base Mort Prince was leaping and waving his arms in his rôle of coacher, while across the field at third Dick Furst was doing all he could to worry Sam. Tyler Wicks was on third, Coolidge on second and Gus Turnbull on first. Sam looked over the field, smiled pleasantly at Turnbull, who returned the smile in a rather sickly way, and then gave his attention to Joe Williams at bat. Dolph crouched and gave the signal.
“Come on now, fellows!” he called as he got into position for the catch. “Out they go, one, two, three!”
Probably none of his team heard the remark, for Towners and Boarders were once more engaged in their vocal war. But Williams heard and his confidence, already disturbed by Sam’s appearance on the mound, suffered a further relapse. Sam settled his toes in the soil, twirled his arms and shot the ball away. Williams let it go by, as he should have with three balls to his credit, and yelled a protest when the umpire called it a strike. The Boarders yelled gleefully. Williams gripped his bat tighter and began to swing it nervously over the plate while he awaited the next delivery. This, he argued, was bound to be a good one, for if not it would force in a run. Dolph gave the signal, but Sam shook his head. Dolph gave a new signal and Sam nodded. Sam knew pretty well what Joe Williams would do in a crisis of this sort. He knew that Joe would expect a straight ball and would try for it. And as Joe was a fairly good hitter it was more than likely that he would connect with it. So Sam sent him a ball that looked very, very good until it was almost at the plate. Then, as Williams swung at it, it settled into a drop and the bat went harmlessly over it.