Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Support; Or, A Triple Play онлайн

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Then he sat on the bench beside Dick, of whom he was very proud, though he concealed his pride pretty well.

Ready selected a bat and advanced to the plate.

“Kindly accommodate me by giving me a straight one, Mr. Batch,” he urged. “You know I like you, and I won’t do a thing to you—if I get a chance.”

“Here it is,” said Batch.

But it was a rise, and Jack struck under it a foot.

“I think you are a prevaricator!” said the batter quickly. “I regret very much to apply such a title to you, but it fits like your skin.”

“Well, try the next one,” said Batch.

Jack declined, however, for it was a wide out curve, and a ball was called.

“That makes us even,” said Ready. “Now we’ll begin over.”

The next one was too close, and Jack let it pass.

“Ball two!” cried the umpire.

“Ah-ha!” said Jack. “I’m getting a lead on you.”

Batch set his teeth and put in a drop. Jack struck over it.

“The advantage is mine,” said the pitcher.

“See if you can keep it,” said Ready.

Then Batch tried a high one, and the third ball was called.