Miracle at the Plate (7 page)

“Nice game, Skeeter,” said Tommy. “Maybe you’re no fly catcher, but you can sure wallop that apple.”

“Skeeter,” Roger said, his face a little red as if he were sort of nervous about something. “I’m sorry about the way I’ve
been acting toward you.”

“Forget it,” said Skeeter. “I know I’m a clown out there, but I just can’t help it. I’m just clumsy, that’s all there is to
it.”

Roger grinned. “Well, I want to tell you
something about Tommy. He’s a good friend of mine, so I wanted to do something for him. He loves baseball more than anything.
Except for his dog Pancho maybe!” He laughed. “But he talks and dreams about baseball. I had hoped that Coach O’Hara would
let him play more than a couple of innings a game. But he didn’t. Then while you were in Idaho, he was given a chance to play
more.”

“And all I did was help the
other
teams win,” put in Tommy. “Guess I’ll be a sports announcer when I grow up. That’s the next best thing.”

Roger and Skeeter laughed. “There’s another reason, too, Skeet. You played like a clown in the outfield, but you hit that
ball better than anyone else in the league. Guess I just didn’t think that was fair.”

“Who did?” said Skeeter, his eyes shining
happily. “Who cares anymore now, anyway? The season’s over and we didn’t do so badly as a team, did we? And I’m sure glad
Pancho is okay, Tommy. I really am.”

“Thanks, Skeeter. And I hope Gus comes back. I know how you must feel.”

Skeeter grinned, but for a second he blinked a little.

“Come on, you guys!” he cried. “Let’s catch up with Shadow!”

The four boys started off the field together. They walked out of the park and down the street where Skeeter lived, carrying
on a constant chatter about the game.

Presently Shadow stopped and stared at the sky. “Skeeter,” he whispered. “Look!”

Skeeter stopped and looked. His skin prickled. Flying across the sky was a bird with large, outspread wings that rose and
fell slowly and tiredly, as if it had been on
a long, long journey somewhere. Then it started downward, the sun striking its snow-white wings as it headed for one of the
houses on the street.

“It’s Gus!” Skeeter shouted. “It’s Gus! He’s come home!”

Baseball Flyhawk	Dive Right In
Baseball Turnaround	Double Play at Short
The Basket Counts	Face-Off
Body Check	Fairway Phenom
Catch That Pass!	Football Double Threat
Catcher with a Glass Arm	Football Fugitive
Catching Waves	Football Nightmare
Center Court Sting	The Fox Steals Home