“Oh, this is something of a game!” crowed Stark, capering toward the bench. “It’s about time we came to life and touched that gangling port-sider up a few. Stop watching his contortions, Labelle. This is no vaudeville performance; you’re here to play baseball. Try to hit him, anyhow.” “You bet!” growled the Canadian. “I hit de ball dis time; you watch.” Nevertheless, although he slashed viciously, he did not graze the first one. Suddenly Reddy Crandall, who had spent his time on the bench staring at the long-geared pitcher, struck his thigh a resounding slap. “I’ve got him!” he declared excitedly. “I’ve spotted that guy! I know him now! Craddock, hey? No wonder them Bancrofters come up to this town to-day loaded with bettin’ money. Craddock! Why, that’s ‘Pinwheel’ Murtel, of the National League, as good a man as Matty himself, only he’s got a rotten disposition, an’ no manager can handle him. He’s been blacklisted and outlawed time after time, but he’s such a wonder they always fix it up somehow, an’ take him back when he wants to come. That’s Murtel, I’ll bet my life on it. Fellers, we’ll never score to-day with _him_ pitchin’.” Stark, standing near, had ceased to swing the two bats he had picked up, listening to the excited words of Crandall. He had never seen the famous and eccentric Pinwheel Murtel, but he had heard a great deal about the man, as, doubtless, had every other baseball player in the country. “By Jove!” he muttered, having turned to stare at the lengthy twirler. “I believe you’re right, Reddy.” “I _know_ I’m right,” said Crandall. “I’ve been trying to figure out who the man was, and I’ve got him at last. At his best, he can walk any three of us without a man down and then keep us from scoring. This game is as good as settled, and a lot of Kingsbridge sports have lost some good money to-day.” “Nonsense, Crandall!” said Locke swiftly. “Even if the man _is_ Pinwheel Murtel, he isn’t invincible.” “There goes Pete ag’in,” said Reddy, as Labelle fanned out the second time. “Nobody’s even touched him.” “What of it? The best pitchers in the business can be hit.” “But not by batters in our class.” “Yes, sometimes they can be hit by batters in our class. Mathewson has been batted and beaten by a scrub country team, at least once, according to his own confession; and other top-notch pitchers have met the same treatment, much to their surprise. “We’re going to fight this game through to the last ditch, I hope, whether that man is Murtel or not. There’s no knowing what may happen. At any rate, if I can hold them down, and you fellows keep on giving me the support you have, they may not get any runs. We’re not going to quit, are we, just because we’ve found out that Craddock is Murtel?” “No,” rasped Jim Sockamore, the Indian, “we won’t quit! You’re right, Lefty; mebbe well beat that bunch yet, if we support you.”