But Art Church did not, and waiting in vain for what he considered a good ball, he struck at the next and missed, while the third strike was called on him without his getting a chance to move his bat.

“Oh, I guess the umpire isn’t against us after all,” thought Joe, as he threw the ball over to first while the next batter was coming up.

[32]

“How’s that?” yelled Tom in delight. “Guess there aren’t going to be any home runs for you Resolutes.”

“Oh, it’s early yet,” answered the visiting captain.

But the Resolutes were destined to get no runs in that half-inning. One man popped up a little fly, which was easily taken care of, and the next man Joe struck out cleanly.

He was beginning to feel that he was getting in form again. All that Spring he had pitched fine games at Excelsior Hall, but, during the Summer vacation, at the close of the boarding school, he had gone a bit stale. He could feel it himself. His muscles were stiff from lack of use, and he had not the control of the ball, which was one of his strong points. Neither could he get up the speed which had always been part of his assets, and which, in after years, made him such a power in the big league.

Still Joe felt that he was doing fairly well, and he knew that, as the game went on, and he warmed up, he would do better.

“We ought to win,” he told Tom Davis, as they walked to the bench. “That is if we get any kind of support, and if our fellows can hit their pitcher. What sort of a chap is he?”

“Don’t know much about him. He’s been at it all Summer though, and ought to be in pretty good