Mr. Cummings arose with alacrity and, followed by Tom, accompanied the coach across to the other side of the diamond, where a place was found for him on the players’ bench. Buster Healey winked gravely at Tom. “Get on to Bat being sweet to old Cummings,” he whispered to Bert Meyers, who was seated beside him. “He’s after Pollock I’ll bet a dollar. Bet you he gets him, too!” Mr. Cummings was introduced to Captain Warner and one or two of the other boys and was quite in his element. Pete Farrar, farther along the bench, viewed Tom’s appearance with suspicion. Young Smith, bat in hand, waiting for Sidney to retire from the plate, turned his head toward the bench and whispered hoarsely: “Pete!” “Huh?” grunted Pete Farrar. “Good-bye,” said Smithie softly. Pete only grunted again. CHAPTER XVIII TOM TWIRLS FOR THE SCRUBS Tom realised, as he walked over to the mound and picked up the ball, that at least a portion of his audience was hostile. He could not expect Pete Farrar to be wholly pleased at his advent on the scene, and Pete’s demeanour showed that he wasn’t, while for some less easily explainable reason Captain Warner seemed far from friendly. Not that these things bothered Tom very much, however. He was naturally a little nervous, but I doubt if anyone guessed it. As luck had it, the first three batsmen to confront him were Kenny, Craig, and Farrar, the last trio on the first team’s batting-list. Tom knew nothing about them and so wisely relied on the scrub catcher to tell him what to offer. Tom presented a rather incongruous appearance in the box. He had removed his coat and waistcoat, tied his suspenders around his waist, and rolled up the sleeves of his blue-stripe shirt. Tommy Hughes had supplied him with a cap to take the place of the straw hat he had been wearing. His long trousers struck an odd note amongst the surrounding uniforms. On the bench, Mr. Talbot and Mr. Cummings sat side by side and watched interestedly, the latter a trifle anxiously as well. He was prepared to be very proud of Tom’s prowess and was mutely hoping that the boy would not, after all, prove a fiasco. Arthur Brown, who caught for the scrubs, knelt behind the plate and gave the signal for a fast, straight ball. Tom settled his cap with a tug at the visor, brought his arms back over his head, lifted his left leg in air a little, and pitched. Joe Kenny watched the ball cut the centre of the plate, waist-high, and heard it slap into the big mitt behind him. Then he tapped his bat on the plate, squared himself, and seemed to dare Tom to do it again. And Tom did it again, only this time the ball, instead of whizzing up to the plate, came with deceptive slowness and Kenny hit much too soon. Steve Arbuckle, the team’s manager, who was umpiring, watched the ball go dancing along outside third-base-line and announced: “Foul! Strike two!”