Nor did Prescott keep him long waiting. The ball came in, and
Dan gauged it fairly well. Yet he fanned for the third time.
"Batsman out!"
Dan hesitated an almost imperceptible instant at the plate. Swift
as lightning he made a wry little mouth at Prescott. It nearly
broke Dick up with laughter as Dalzell stalked moodily to the
bench and Dave stepped forward.
In fact, the Army pitcher choked and shook so that Durville called
to him in a quiet, anxious voice from shortstop's beat:
"Anything wrong, ramrod?"
None of the spectators heard this, but most of them saw Dick's
short, vigorous shake of the head as he palmed the ball.
Then he let it go, for Darrin was waiting, and in grand old Dave's
eyes flashed the resolve to retrieve what had just been taken from
the Navy.
"Darry can't lose, anyway. He'll take the conceit out of these
Army hikers," predicted some of the knowing ones among the Navy
fans.
"Ball one!"
Though not sure, Dave had expected this, and did not try keenly
for Dick's first delivery, which, as he knew of old, was seldom
of this pitcher's best.
Then came what looked like a high ball. Of old, this had been
the poorest sort for Darrin to bit, and Dick seemed to remember
it. But Darrin had changed with the years, and he felt a swift
little jolt of amusement as he swung for that high one.
Just about three feet away from the plate, however, that ball
took a most unexpected drop, and passed on fully eighteen inches
under the swing of Darrin's stick.
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