in the team, facing the unknown quantity.

Gus put on no gimcracks nor did he make fancy swings. He merely made a
step forward, raised his arm to throw and held it about two seconds--then
there came across the plate something more like a streak than a ball--so
it seemed to Siebold--and little Kerry, who had been squatting, nearly
went over backward with the loud plop in his glove. Siebold stood, dazed.

"One strike!" called the umpire.

The ball went back to Gus who took it out of the air as if he were
plucking at a snowflake. Again the step forward, the raised arm and the
ball came along swiftly at first, then slower, much slower, but keeping
up. Siebold's heart sang. He would take this thing on the end of his bat
and lift it beyond any hopes of a fielder's reaching it--it meant a
two-bagger sure. He struck; there was no contact of bat and ball; a
fraction of a second later the sound of the ball in Kerry's glove told
him he had "missed it by a mile," as Sadler bawled it out.

"Two strikes!"

Siebold looked mad now. He was being tricked--that was certain. He would
show this fellow if he could do that again! The ball came along swiftly,
but too high. It was "one ball," and he waited. The next was fairly
swift, but it was going to bounce before it struck, yet it lifted and
passed right over the plate almost a foot high and Siebold wondered why
he had not swiped at it.

"Striker out!" called the umpire, and the captain of the regulars
angrily threw down his bat.

Wilde came next. He was the regulars' catcher, and the best batter of
the team. Siebold stood, watching closely, a scowl on his face. Almost
the same tactics were played, without Wilde ever knowing where the ball
was! Another chose three bats before he got one to suit him--this fellow
was Kline, the bunter. More than once he had made his base and let
fellows on bases in by bunting one at his own feet and in such a manner
that it rolled slowly toward the pitcher.

Three balls were called against Gus. The regulars commenced to smile and
Siebold's eyes sparkled. Then three streaks came, all over the plate,
waist high and "striker out" sounded the third time. The regulars went
to the field, the captain walking slowly and thoughtfully.

Gus went to bat and struck out. Little Kerry lifted a fly to left field
that the fielder muffed and let roll, so that Kerry slid into second
when the sphere was coming back again. Morton, a new man, struck out as
though he wer