On it came,
not very swift and straight over the plate. "Durry" himself felt
a sinking of the heart that. Dick should let such an easy one
leave him.
Yet Durville had his own work to do honestly. He must pound this
easy one and drive it as far as he could.
Durville swung and let go. But just as he did so---that ball
dropped!
It passed on a level two feet below the swinging stick, and Greg,
with a quiet grin, neatly mitted it.
"Good!" muttered Coach Lawrence under his breath. "Got any more
like that, Prescott?" he called.
"I think I have a few, sir, when I get my arm warmed up and limbered,"
Dick admitted.
"Take your time, then. Don't knock your arm out of shape."
Again Greg was signaling, though the signal was so difficult to
catch that many of the onlookers wondered if Holmes really had
signaled.
Swish---ew---ew---zip!
Again Durville had fanned truly, though nothing but air. The
outshoot had seemed to spring lazily around, just out of reach
of the end of his stick.
Now, every member of the squad, and all of the spectators were
beginning to take keen notice.
"Slowly, Prescott. Take your time between," admonished Lieutenant
Lawrence, who knew how easily a pitcher out of training might
wrench his muscles and go stale for several days.
Greg had signaled for what had once been one of his chum's best---a
modification of the "jump ball" that had cost this young pitcher
much hard study and arm-strain.
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