escaped a thrashing. Until the last inning was over he would concentrate his energies upon the work in hand.
As before, the Bancroft pitcher's efforts to connect with Locke's slants were laughable; he could not touch the ball, even to foul it.
"Hold them down now, Craddock," begged Fancy Dyke from the bleachers. "They shut us out last time we was here; let's return the compliment to-day."
Murtel grinned; thus far he had seen nothing that would lead him to doubt his ability to hold the Kinks runless. Nor was he ruffled when Anastace got a scratch hit from him in the last of the fifth; for the three following batters were like putty in his hands.
On the part of Kingsbridge there was uncertainty and anxiety as Locke returned to the slab, for now the head of Bancroft's list, the best hitters of the team, were coming up to face him, and they were full of confidence. There were times, it seemed, when Lefty was sadly erratic, and were he to slump again in this game the faith of his admirers would be much impaired.
Never had Tom Locke put more brains into his pitching. He had a speed ball that smoked, and his curves broke as sharply keen as a razor's edge;
