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Updated: June 25, 2025
"You must remember," reminded Rackliff, "that Newbert doesn't belong in Wyndham, and it really doesn't make any great difference to him whether that team wins or not. Of course, if he's pitching, ordinarily he'll do as well as he can on his own account. And let me tell you, Spring, old fel, he's a lulu; there's nothing down in this neck of the woods that can pitch with him.
At the very end of the bridge an old building cut off the view of the greater part of the structure from any one approaching from the main portion of the village. The "bump" of which Newbert had given warning was struck with sufficient force to send the boys bouncing from their seats, and the shock seemed to disturb Foxhall's hold on the steering wheel, for the car swerved unpleasantly.
The writing looked familiar, too, although at that time he could not seem to recall the person whose chirography it resembled. "The notebook," he finally decided; "that may tell who it belongs to, for doubtless the same chap dropped both." On the fly leaf of the notebook he found the name of Dade Newbert.
"And every reason for believing she will have, considering the fact that a dandy like Dade Newbert is going to pitch for her. Wait till you see him in action; it will open your eyes. How much money have you got?" Springer moved until the light of the street lamp in front of the postoffice over the way shone upon him, plunging his hand into his pocket and bringing up a lot of silver.
"If I'm batted out to-day it's my finish," thought the unhappy Oakdale pitcher. "Cheer up," said a Clearporter, trotting past him. "We won't do a thing to you. If you're sick and need some medicine, we'll hand you some of the same kind we gave Newbert and Crowell." "Aw, go on!" growled Phil. "You're nothing but a lot of wind-bags."
Clearport did come near pulling it out of the fire actually batted out a lead of one run in the first of the ninth. If Wyndham hadn't come back in her half and made two tallies, she'd been stung." "I hear," said Berlin Barker, "that Clearport pounded Wyndham's wonderful new twirler off the slab." "That's right," said Nelson. "They got at Newbert in the seventh and gave him fits.
Conway; let him come, please." Herbert, in silk pajamas, was standing at the head of the stairs, looking ill indeed. He put out a limp hand, which Newbert grasped, crying: "By Jove! you are sick. Now, that's tough." "Come into my room," invited Herbert, leading the way. "It's a pretty bum joint, but it's the best in the house the best I could find in this wretched hole of a town.
Then he skipped back over the chalk-mark before the umpire could order him back. The Wyndham infielders crept forward, crouching and ready. Newbert, contemptuous of Tuttle's skill as a batter, handed up an easy one.
When it comes to cutting a dash well, Rack can cut it, you bet. I'll see if he's around." Springing out, Newbert strode to the door and rang. After a time, as he was growing impatient and had prepared to ring again, the door opened a foot or so, and a tall, thin, hopeless-looking woman surveyed him inquiringly. Newbert asked for Rackliff.
But Wyndham had known what was coming quite as well as Oakdale, and Newbert, pitching the ball beyond the batsman's reach, gave the catcher every chance to get the runner as he came lunging hopelessly toward the pan.
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