“He’s not shown at all what’s in him. The blamed hayseed is up in the air. He’s crazy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. I tell you, Con, he may be scared to death, but he’s dead in earnest.”

Suddenly I recalled the advice of the pleasant old fellow at Rickettsville.

“Spears, you’re the captain,” I said, sharply. “Go after the rube. Wake him up. Tell him he can’t pitch. Call him `Pogie!’ That’s a name that stirs him up.”

“Well, I’ll be dinged! He looks it,” replied Spears. “Here, Rube, get off the bench. Come here.”

Rube lurched toward us. He seemed to be walking in his sleep. His breast was laboring and he was dripping with sweat.

“Who ever told you that you could pitch?” asked Spears genially. He was master at baseball ridicule. I had never yet seen the youngster who could stand his badinage. He said a few things, then wound up with: “Come now, you cross between a hayrack and a wagon tongue, get sore and do something. Pitch if you can. Show us! Do you hear, you tow-headed Pogie!”

Rube jumped as if he had been struck. His face flamed red and his little eyes turned black. He shoved his big fist under Capt. Spears’ nose.

“Mister, I’ll lick you fer thet—after the game! And I’ll show you dog-goned well how I can pitch.”

“Good!” exclaimed Raddy; and I echoed his word. Then I went to the bench and turned my attention to the game. Some one told me that McCall had made a couple of fouls, and after waiting for two strikes and three balls had struck out. Ashwell had beat out a bunt in his old swift style, and Stringer was walking up to the plate on the moment. It was interesting, even in a losing game, to see Stringer go to bat. We all watched him, as we had been watching him for weeks, expecting him to break his slump with one of the drives that had made him famous. Stringer stood to the left side of the plate, and I could see the bulge of his closely locked jaw. He swung on the first pitched ball. With the solid rap we all rose to watch that hit. The ball lined first, then soared and did not begin to drop till it was far beyond the right-field fence.