“The ball screamed toward the pitcher and seemed suddenly to dive down at his feet. He grabbed it to throw to first and realized to his horror that he held only the cover. The rest of it, unraveling cotton thread as it rode, was headed into the outfield.”
“Roy caught the pitcher’s eye. His own had blood in them. Youngberry shuddered. He threw—a bad ball—but the batter leaped at it. He struck out with a roar.”
″ ‘I don’t think I like boys,’ answered the Swallow. ‘Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me.’ ”