Bob was an anxious-looking youth when the side trotted in and threw themselves about the ground to rest and cool off. “I don’t know what the dickens to do,” he said to Dan and Nelson. “There’s no use putting Wells in again, even if he’d go, and he says he won’t. Little Morris can’t pitch on account of his ivy-poisoning. Van Roden has done a little of it, but he can only pitch a straight ball, and it isn’t even swift. Who’s up, ‘Babe’?” “Ridley up, Loom on deck!” piped the “Babe.” “For goodness’ sake, Rid, hit the ball!” called Bob. “We’ve got to get four runs this inning.” And after Ridley had nodded and stepped to the plate Bob went on: “The worst of it is we’ve got our tail-enders coming up. After Loom there isn’t a man can hit. However--” He turned frowningly to watch Ridley, chewing savagely at the blade of grass between his teeth. Ridley made a safe hit and went to first, and Chicora applauded wildly. “Joe, coach at first, will you?” Bob called. “You’re up, Loom. You know what to do, old chap. We need runs, you know.” Then he turned to Dan and Nelson again. “Look here, what do you fellows think? Shall I give Van a chance?” “No use,” answered Dan gloomily. “He’s no pitcher. Isn’t there any one else?” Bob shook his head. “Not a soul that I know of. I’ll try it myself, if you say so,” he said with a feeble effort at humor. “You cu-cu-cu-couldn’t do mu-mu-mu-much worse!” stuttered Tom, who had long since left the shade of the apple-tree and was now hopping around wide-eyed with excitement. “Why du-du-du-don’t you mu-mu-make Nel pu-pu-pu-pitch?” “Can you?” cried Bob. “No; that is, mighty little, Bob,” answered Nelson. “I pitched one season on a class team. But I’m willing to try if you want me to. Only don’t expect much; I’ll probably be worse than Wells was the last inning.” “Find a ball,” said Bob quickly, his face lighting up with hope, “and pitch me a few. Where’s my mitten? Say, Nel, why didn’t you tell me you could pitch?” “I can’t, not enough to call pitching. I can get a ball over now and then and I used to be able to work a pretty fair drop, but that’s about all. You’ll have to explain signals to me.” “All right. Say, Van, run over and tell Kendall I want him to play center field, will you? There he is talking to Clint. Scoot!”