“THOSE look like rain clouds,” Fred die said, pointing a finger at a cluster of dark clouds stirring in the south.
“I hope not,” replied Johnny. “I haven't played baseball since last Wednesday. I'll be out of practice.”
The boys arrived at the field. Only half of the Cardinals' team was present. The Mudhens were already there. Some were having batting practice; some were chasing flies in the outfield. The Cardinals' players were playing pitch and catch.
By ten minutes of six, though, the Cardinals' entire team was at the field. Manager Davis was also there, and so were the umpires.
Promptly at six o'clock the game started. The Mudhens had last raps, since they batted first in their first game against the Cardinals.
Manager Davis had changed the batting order. Peter Jergens still led off, and Johnny and Mickey still batted eighth and ninth. But the rest of the order was shifted. He had it like this:
Peter Jergens — 2nd base
Freddie Turner — 1st base
Davie Randall — pitcher
Marty French — catcher
Butchie Long — 3rd base
Stevie Little — shortstop
Buddy Greenfield — left field
Johnny Doane — center field
Mickey Bonzell — right field
The Cardinals started their chatter as soon as Peter walked to the plate.
“He'll walk you, Peter! Wait 'em out!”
Peter waited till the count was two strikes and three balls. Then he struck out. The Mudhens cheered their pitcher and threw the ball around the horn.
Freddie Turner blasted a low pitch to short. The Mudhens' shortstop speared it and heaved it to first for the second out. Then Davie came up and hit one over the second baseman's head.
“Now's your chance, Marty! Duck on the pond!”
Marty grinned as he carried his bat to the plate. He let the first pitch go by and lined the second to the outfield. Davie crossed the plate, and Marty stopped on second for a clean double.
“Thataway, Marty! Nice hit!”
Marty stood with both feet on the bag, his deep chest rising and falling as he panted.
Butchie stepped to the plate and flied out to center for the third out.
The Mudhens took their turn at bat. The third baseman hit a single, but he died on first. Nobody could knock him in.
In the top of the second inning Stevie drew a walk. Buddy hit a grounder to third. The third baseman caught the hop, threw him out. Stevie ran safely to second.
Johnny came up. He felt fine. He didn't think about Michael. All he thought about was hitting that ball.
“Wait for the good one, Johnny!” Mr. Davis yelled.
The first pitch was low. The second was wide. The third came in across the heart of the plate. Johnny swung. The bat connected.
The ball sailed in a clothesline drive over short. Johnny dropped the bat, raced to first. It was a single, but the hit scored Stevie for the Cardinals' second run.
“Nice hit, Johnny, or kid!” Marty French yelled from the bench. His grin was a mile wide. So was Mr. Davis's.
Johnny's heart pounded. He had hit with a man on. It was the first time the first time in a long, long time.