``Good!'' exclaimed Raddy; and I echoed his word.Then I went to the bench and turned my attention to the game.Some one told me that McCall had made a couple of fouls, and after waiting for two strikes and three balls had struck out.Ashwell had beat out a bunt in his old swift style, and Stringer was walking up to the plate on the moment.It was interesting, even in a losing game, to see Stringer go to bat.We all watched him, as we had been watching him for weeks, expecting him to break his slump with one of the drives that had made him famous.Stringer stood to the left side of the plate, and I could see the bulge of his closely locked jaw.He swung on the first pitched ball.With the solid rap we all rose to watch that hit.The ball lined first, then soared and did not begin to drop till it was far beyond the right-field fence.For an instant we were all still, so were the bleachers.Stringer had broken his slump with the longest drive ever made on the grounds.The crowd cheered as he trotted around the bases behind Ashwell.Two runs.
``Con, how'd you like that drive?'' he asked me, with a bright gleam in his eyes.
``O-h-!--a beaut!'' I replied, incoherently.The players on the bench were all as glad as I was.
Henley flew out to left.Mullaney smashed a two-bagger to right.Then Gregg hit safely, but Mullaney, in trying to score on the play, was out at the plate.
``Four hits! I tell you fellows, something's coming off,'' said Raddy.``Now, if only Rube----''
What a difference there was in that long rustic!
He stalked into the box, unmindful of the hooting crowd and grimly faced Schultz, the first batter up for the Bisons.This time Rube was deliberate.
And where he had not swung before he now got his body and arm into full motion.The ball came in like a glint of light.Schultz looked surprised.The umpire called ``Strike!''
``Wow!'' yelled the Buffalo coacher.Rube sped up the sidewheeler and Schultz reached wide to meet it and failed.The third was the lightning drop, straight over the plate.The batter poked weakly at it.Then Carl struck out and Manning following, did likewise.Three of the best hitters in the Eastern retired on nine strikes! That was no fluke.I knew what it meant, and I sat there hugging myself with the hum of something joyous in my ears.
Gregg had a glow on his sweaty face.``Oh, but say, boys, take a tip from me! The Rube's a world beater! Raddy knew it; he sized up that swing, and now I know it.Get wise, you its!''
When old Spears pasted a single through shortstop, the Buffalo manager took Clary out of the box and put in Vane, their best pitcher.Bogart advanced the runner to second, but was thrown out on the play.Then Rube came up.He swung a huge bat and loomed over the Bison's twirler.
Rube had the look of a hitter.He seemed to be holding himself back from walking right into the ball.And he hit one high and far away.The fast Carl could not get under it, though he made a valiant effort.Spears scored and Rube's long strides carried him to third.The cold crowd in the stands came to life; even the sore bleachers opened up.McCall dumped a slow teaser down the line, a hit that would easily have scored Rube, but he ran a little way, then stopped, tried to get back, and was easily touched out.Ashwell's hard chance gave the Bison's shortstop an error, and Stringer came up with two men on bases.Stringer hit a foul over the right-field fence and the crowd howled.Then he hit a hard long drive straight into the centerfielder's hands.
``Con, I don't know what to think, but ding me if we ain't hittin' the ball,'' said Spears.Then to his players: ``A little more of that and we're back in our old shape.All in a minute--at 'em now! Rube, you dinged old Pogie, pitch!''
Rube toed the rubber, wrapped his long brown fingers round the ball, stepped out as he swung and--zing! That inning he unloosed a few more kinks in his arm and he tried some new balls upon the Bisons.But whatever he used and wherever he put them the result was the same--they cut the plate and the Bisons were powerless.
That inning marked the change in my team.
They had come hack.The hoodoo had vanished.
The championship Worcester team was itself again.
The Bisons were fighting, too, but Rube had them helpless.When they did hit a ball one of my infielders snapped it up.No chances went to the outfield.I sat there listening to my men, and reveled in a moment that I had long prayed for.
``Now you're pitching some, Rube.Another strike! Get him a board!'' called Ashwell.
``Ding 'em, Rube, ding 'em!'' came from Capt.
Spears.
``Speed? Oh-no!'' yelled Bogart at third base.
``It's all off, Rube! It's all off--all off!''
