Jolliby picked out his pet bat and was ready to take his place at the plate.
“Don’t try any slugging, Chip,” advised Dick in a low tone. “Just go after a clean single, or be contented to take a base if you can get it.”
The lanky boy walked into the batter’s box and was ready as Warren crouched behind the stick and gave the signal.
Ware threw three balls in succession without tempting Jolliby to swing at one of them.
“Got him in a hole, Chip!” exclaimed Barron Black. “Make him put it over!”
Chip stood and watched two straight ones cut the plate.
“I wonder if you will dud-dud-dud-do that again!” he stuttered, as he gripped his bat.
“I can try it,” retorted Ware.
Apparently the pitcher threw another straight one, but it was a sharp drop, and Chip missed.
“That’s what a fuf-fuf-fuf-feller gits fer waiting!” he chattered, as he retired in deep disgust to the bench.