The Redheaded Outfield by Zane Grey
page 43 of 267 (16%)
page 43 of 267 (16%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
``It's all off now. Let the dinged rube take his medicine,'' growled Spears. ``Don't take him out,'' said Raddy. ``He's not shown at all what's in him. The blamed hayseed is up in the air. He's crazy. He doesn't know what he's doing. I tell you, Con, he may be scared to death, but he's dead in earnest.'' Suddenly I recalled the advice of the pleasant old fellow at Rickettsville. ``Spears, you're the captain,'' I said, sharply. ``Go after the rube. Wake him up. Tell him he can't pitch. Call him `Pogie!' That's a name that stirs him up.'' ``Well, I'll be dinged! He looks it,'' replied Spears. ``Here, Rube, get off the bench. Come here.'' Rube lurched toward us. He seemed to be walking in his sleep. His breast was laboring and he was dripping with sweat. ``Who ever told you that you could pitch?'' asked Spears genially. He was master at baseball ridicule. I had never yet seen the youngster who could stand his badinage. He said a few things, |
|