The umpire was the physical director from the Young Men’s Christian Association, who caused some amusement by appearing with the upper part of his body attired in a striped blazer of black and yellow, which he kept carefully buttoned all during the game, thus giving the impression that there was nothing underneath! Each team warmed up three pitchers, not a very difficult feat on such a day. Of the local twirlers, Tom and Toby looked in the pink of condition, but Pete Farrar had a fagged look about him. At a few minutes before the half-hour the diamond emptied and the players retired to the benches. Then the umpire walked to the plate, swept it with a broom, and looked toward the Amesville bench. “All right, High School,” announced Mr. Talbot. “On the run, now! Pollock, you’ll start the game. Take it easy; we’ve got nine innings to go and this is some hot!” The fielders trotted across the sun-smitten turf to their places, Sam Craig donned his mask, Tom walked to the mound, the first of the Petersburg batsmen stepped to the plate, and the umpire called, “Play ball!” CHAPTER XXIV PITCHER POLLOCK It _was_ hot! Tom’s head felt as though it was being slowly baked in spite of his cap as, getting the signal from Sam, he swung his arms up and sped a fast ball across in the groove. Behind him the cheerful voices of his team-mates made a spattering chorus. “Here we go Tom! You’ve got his number, old man!” “No one walks, Tom!” “That’s pitching ’em, Tom, old boy! That’s pitching ’em!” “No one sees first this inning, fellows! On your toes now!” The head of the Petersburg batting-list retired to the bench, flicking his bat disgustedly toward the pile. Just four balls had settled him. The next youth up was a clever bunter and the infield shortened a little. Tom sped them in low; one strike; one ball; two strikes; two balls---- Then the batsman was streaking for first and Bert Meyers, coming on the dead run, was scooping up the trickling ball. A quick underhand throw, a stab into the air of Buster’s “meat hand,” and two men were out. Petersburg put the next batsman on first, but went into the field a minute or two later when Tom made his second strike-out. Amesville cheered then and kept on cheering until Buster had tapped the plate with his bat and stood awaiting his fate. But neither Buster nor Bert Meyers, who followed, was able to solve the opposing pitcher. Frank Warner reached his base on a scratch hit that was too hard for second baseman to handle, but was out a minute later on an attempted steal.