Grey, Zane, 1872-1939 / 2008-11-19 00:00:00
The floor was of bare ground well raked and loosened to
make it soft. This immense hall was full of a motley crowd of
aspiring ball-players.
Worry Arthurs, with his head sunk in the collar of his overcoat, and
his shoulders hunched up as if he was about to spring upon something,
paced up and down the rear end of the cage. Behind him a hundred or
more players in line slowly marched toward the slab of rubber which
marked the batting position. Ken remembered that the celebrated coach
always tried out new players at the bat first. It was his belief that
batting won games.
"Bunt one and hit one!" he yelled to the batters.
From the pitcher's box a lanky individual was trying to locate the
plate. Ken did not need a second glance to see that this fellow was
no pitcher.
"Stop posin', and pitch!" yelled Arthurs.
One by one the batters faced the plate, swung valiantly or wildly at
balls and essayed bunts. Few hit the ball out and none made a creditable
bunt. After their turn at bat they were ordered to the other end of the
cage, where they fell over one another trying to stop the balls that
were hit. Every few moments the coach would yell for one of them, any
one, to take a turn at pitching. Ken noticed that Arthurs gave a sharp
glance at each new batter, and one appeared to be sufficient.
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