usual position. Delaney smiled derisively, as if
he knew how futile it was to tell what field Reddie
Ray might hit into. Wehying, the old fox, warily
eyed the youngster, and threw him a high curve,
close in. It grazed Reddie's shirt, but he never
moved a hair. Then Wehying, after the manner
of many veteran pitchers when trying out a new
and menacing batter, drove a straight fast ball at
Reddie's head. Reddie ducked, neither too slow
nor too quick, just right to show what an eye he
had, how hard it was to pitch to. The next was
a strike. And on the next he appeared to step
and swing in one action. There was a ringing
rap, and the ball shot toward right, curving down,
a vicious, headed hit. Mallory, at first base,
snatched at it and found only the air. Babcock
had only time to take a few sharp steps, and then
he plunged down, blocked the hit and fought the
twisting ball. Reddie turned first base, flitted on
toward second, went headlong in the dust, and
shot to the base before White got the throw-in
from Babcock. Then, as White wheeled and lined
the ball home to catch the scoring Clammer,
Reddie Ray leaped up, got his sprinter's start
and, like a rocket, was off for third. This time
he dove behind the base, sliding in a half circle,
and as Hanley caught Strickland's perfect throw
and whirled with the ball, Reddie's hand slid to
the bag.