Thus encouraged, while Sullivan was trying to hold the Buccaneers in check, and getting away with the inning by allowing them only one run, Locke sauntered to the dressing room, found Kennedy’s old uniform, and got into it. As he passed Heines, the little pitcher gave him a look, and called: “It’s about time you got into gear if Jack’s going to use you to-day. He’s worked the rest of us stiff, and the Bucks have grabbed the game already.” Lefty made no retort. Having prepared himself for the field, he waited, watching Heines. In the third inning the visitors, steadied by their manager, again bumped Jewett, and this time old Jack’s form of attack was not defeated by a streak of luck. Jewett, sweating and worried after the first two men had hit safely, lost his control, passed another, hit the fourth with a pitched ball, and forced a run. Still Bristol delayed, and the next Deer, slashing out a clean two-bagger, drove two more runners across the pan before Hank gave his pitcher the hook. Elgin came trotting in from the far corner, and ascended the hillock. He was greeted by a roar from the great crowd, which brought a smile to his face, and caused him to touch his cap proudly. “I knew he’d have to do it,” bellowed Peter McLaughlin, when the ovation died down. “Go right after him, boys. You can get his alley, too.” Elgin glanced in the direction from which the landlord’s voice came, and shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. “Give that calf more rope, or he’ll bellow his head off,” he said; at which would-be witticism the local crowd in the vicinity of McLaughlin broke into a chorus of jeers and catcalls. “A pitcher who talks back,” muttered the hotel proprietor, “has a goat to let. We’ll get his before the game’s done, or I’m no judge.” Elgin found the plate with a couple of pitches, and nodded to the batter, who stepped into his place. Behind the pan, Yapp, signaling, spoke only for the hitter’s ear: “He’s got awful speed. He kills ’em sometimes. Look out for his bean ball.” Following the signal, Elgin whipped a scorcher straight at the head of the batter, who gasped, and ducked barely in time. “Look out!” cried the pitcher even as the sphere left his fingers. And then, as Yapp handled it and returned it promptly, he said apologetically: “I haven’t pitched for a week, and I may be a little wild.” That was enough for that hitter, whose three swings failed to touch anything more solid than the ozone. “So that’s his game in the bush, is it?” growled Kennedy. “Don’t let him drive you away from the plate. Everybody stand up and hit the ball.” No one, however, seemed to care to be hit by Elgin’s speed, and the new man stopped the Deers in their tracks; which brought him another ovation from the local crowd.