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Updated: May 18, 2025
The purser, burlesquing the pitcher's contortions, hurled at the consul the heavy roll of newspapers, tied with a string, that the steamer always brought for him. Geddie leaped high and caught the roll with a sounding "thwack." The loungers on the beach about a third of the population of the town laughed and applauded delightedly.
He saw Umpire Gale leisurely step into the pitcher's box, and leisurely pick up the ball and start to make a motion to put it in his pocket. Suddenly fire flashed all over Daddy. "Hyar! Don't hide that ball!" he yelled, in his piercing tenor. He jumped up quickly, forgetting his crutch, and fell headlong. Lane and Sam got him upright and handed the crutch to him.
He thought Gordon a semi-god, a worker of miracles, and urged the putting up of a monument to him at once in the public plaza, to which Albert objected, on the ground that it would be too suggestive of an idol; and to which Stedman also objected, but for the less unselfish reason that it would "be in the way of the pitcher's box."
Ivy went, looking the sacrificial lamb. Five minutes after the game was called she pointed one tapering white finger in the direction of the pitcher's mound. "Who's that?" she asked. "Pitcher," explained Papa Keller, laconically. Then, patiently: "He throws the ball." "Oh," said Ivy. "What did you say his name was?" "I didn't say. But it's Rudie Schlachweiler. The boys call him Dutch.
Cast away day-book and ledger, green bag and yardstick; let us go straightway into the country and buy a farm. But before the deeds are actually delivered, before your feet have finally deserted the pavement to make life-long acquaintance with the dew, it will be worth while to ascertain whether the pitcher's word is as good as its bond.
This was sufficient, considering the score was three to one in our favor, to bring the audience to its feet with a howling, stamping demand for runs. "Spears is wise all right," said Raddy. I watched the foxy old captain walk over to the Rube and talk to him while he rested, a reassuring hand on the pitcher's shoulder.
Duck your nut if the ball's goin' to hit you, but stop lookin' for it. Forget it. Another turn now. I'm goin' to umpire. Let's see if you know the difference between a ball and a strike." He changed the catcher and, ordering Ken to the pitcher's box, he stepped over behind him.
Practice was soon over, and Merry called his team in. Again the Rovers trotted onto the field. Greg Carker broke open a box and tossed out a snow-white ball. Bender caught the ball with one hand and promptly proceeded to soil it by rubbing it on the grass outside the pitcher's box. "Play ball!" called Carker clearly.
The bleachers set up an exultant, satisfied shout and sat down to wait. Schultz toed the plate and watched the Rube pitch a couple. There seemed to be no diminution of the great pitcher's speed and both balls cut the plate. Schultz clipped the next one down the third-base Line. Bogart trapped it close to the bag, and got it away underhand, beating the speedy runner by a nose.
He paid no attention to the cheers of his friends or the jeers of the other party. He seemed in no great hurry. He made sure that every man was in position, felt of the pitcher's plate with his foot, kicked aside a small pebble, and then took any amount of time in preparing to deliver. Collingwood began to show some interest.
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