Читать книгу Captain Chub онлайн

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“Strike!” Again, and the batsman swung and the ball glanced back against the netting.

“Foul! Strike two!”

Then came a ball. The batsman was plainly discouraged, plainly nervous. Chub, dancing around at third, worrying the pitcher to the best of his ability, decided that it was now or never for him. Taking a long lead, he waited poised on his toes. As the ball left the pitcher’s hand he raced for home.

“Hit it! Hit it!” shrieked the men on the bench. The batsman, awakening suddenly to the demands, struck wildly as the ball came to him, struck without hitting. But the catcher, with that red-stockinged figure racing toward him, made his one error of the game. The ball glanced from his mitt and rolled back of the plate, and although he had thrown off his mask and was after it like a cat after a mouse, he was too late. ssss1 with one hand on the plate, and the crowd was streaming, shouting and dancing, onto the field.

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That 4 to 3 victory took place on a Thursday, in the third week of June.