and he tried not
to hear more. Then he commenced to pitch to Dean. Worry stood
near him and kept whispering to hold in his speed and just to
use his arm easily. It was difficult, for Ken felt that his arm
wanted to be cracked like a buggy-whip.

"That'll do," whispered Worry. "We're only takin' five minutes'
practice.... Say, but there's a crowd! Are you all right, Peg--cool-like
and determined?... Good! Say--but Peg, you'd better look these fellows
over."

"I remember them all," replied Ken. "That's Gallagher on the end of
the bench; Burr is third from him; Stern's fussing over the bats, and
there's Hill, the light-headed fellow, looking this way. There's--"

"That'll do," said Worry. "There goes the gong. It's all off now.
Homans has chosen to take the field. I guess mebbe you won't show
'em how to pitch a new white ball! Get at 'em now!" Then he called
Ken back as if impelled, and whispered to him in a husky voice:
"It's been tough for you and for me. Listen! Here's where it begins
to be sweet."

Ken trotted out to the box, to the encouraging voices of the infield,
and he even caught Reddy Ray's low, thrilling call from the far outfield.

"Play!" With the ringing order, which quieted the audience, the umpire
tossed a white ball to Ken.

For a single instant Ken trembled ever so slightly in all his limbs,
and the stands seemed a revolving black-and-white band. Then the emotion
was as if it had never been. He stepped upon the slab, keen-sighted,
cool, and with his pitching game outlined in his mind.

Burr, the curly-haired leader of Herne's batting list, took his
position to the left of the plate. Ken threw him an underhand curve,
sweeping high and over the inside corner. Burr hit a lofty fly to
Homans. Hill, the bunter, was next. For him Ken shot one straight
over the plate. Hill let it go by, and it was a strike. Ken put
another in the same place, and Hill, attempting to bunt, fouled
a little fly, which Dean caught. Gallagher strode third to bat.
He used a heavy club, stood right-handed over the plate, and looked
aggressive. Ken gave the captain a long study and then swung slowly,
sending up a ball that floated like a feather. Gallagher missed it.
On the second pitch he swung heavily at a slow curve far off the
outside. For a third Ken tried the speedy drop, and the captain,
letting it go, was out on strikes.

The sides changed. Worry threw a sweater around Ken.

"The ice's broke, Peg, and you've got you