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They're putting up a right smart sort of a game, but Hooker's mainly responsible, as he hasn't been letting us rap him to any great extent. No scores yet on either side." "Come on, Phil," called Eliot decisively, as he slipped his left hand into the big catching mitt, "get out there and wiggle your flinger.
Off with the fur mitt, and bare hand protected by the inner mitt of wool, he would feel the axe-head, for there was always the danger of using it so cold that the steel would chip and fly.
"They get off to a nice start. When they hit the stretch I throws my hat away. Hamilton's in front two lengths. A eighth from home I see there's somethin' wrong with Micky. He's got his bat 'n' lines in his left mitt. His right hook is kind-a floppin' at his side, but Hamilton's runnin' true 'n' strong. The colt looks awful good to the sixteenth 'n' then his gait goes clear to the bad.
Well, things would be different. He would "can" personality and take up the "big mitt" of public things. But how was this revolution in the private disposition of a man to be accomplished? He had discovered the result, but not the cause; so he began rooting among the sage brush of the sand downs for the foundation stone of his social submergence. "I have it!" he shouted one day.
Sparkfair used all his skill to deceive Bart, and the boy's shoots and curves were indeed enigmas. Hodge could not solve them, and a great shout went up from the boys as Dale finally struck him out. Chuckleson lifted a foul that dropped into Shackleton's mitt. "Two gone, Spark two gone!" barked Bubbs. "Now you can hold 'em!" Hodge whispered instructions to Graves.
He drew a long breath, standing motionless, with all the significance of Worry's hope flashing before him, and then he whirled and delivered the ball. The batter struck at it after it had passed him, and it cracked in Dean's mitt. "Speed!" called the State captain. "Quick eye, there!" The batter growled some unintelligible reply. Then he fouled the second ball, missed the next, and was out.
He scowled, smacked his lips, and at intervals thumped the back of his pudgy, clenched fist into the hollowed palm of the other hand with the gesture of a man who wears the catcher's mitt. Had a professional baseball team from the States ever caught sight of that baby, they would have secured him as a mascot at any price.
Every girl had a beautiful doll, and every boy a gift that made him shout in glee or wrapped him in speechless joy, according to his nature. "How did she know I'd ruther have 'em than anything in th' biggest store you ever saw?" cried Cornelius, with a yell of rapture, throwing off the cover of his box to see a ball, a bat, and a catcher's mitt. "How did she did she know it?"
"How do you know Phil Morris is moving?" "Mr. Wall told me that, too." "Then the Wolf patrol elects a new leader," said Ritter. He glanced out toward where Tim Lally was catching. Andy's eyes puckered, and a swift change came over Bobbie Brown's face. The practice ended. Tim came across the grass with a big mitt under his arm. Ritter and Wally went forward to meet him.
He arranged a block of wood for a plate and stepped off so many paces and placed another piece of wood to mark the pitcher's box. Then he donned the mitt. "Peg, somethin's comin' off. I know it. I never make mistakes in sizin' up pitchers. But I've had such hard luck this season that I can't believe my own eyes. We've got to prove it. Now you go out there and pitch to me.
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