The umpire’s decision that Garvin was out was greeted with howls of angry disapproval by the hoodlums.
Maplewood had secured four scores in the first inning through trickery and the disreputable behavior of the crowd.
As the islanders came into their bench they were mocked and jeered and insulted in a manner that infuriated Buckhart, who was restrained with difficulty from retorting.
Merriwell was the first batter, and he sent a hot one to Connor, who fumbled it and made a scramble to pick it up.
Dick might have crossed first in safely with perfect ease, but as he ran down the base line one of the thugs stepped forward, thrust out a foot and tripped him. Before the captain of the islanders could recover Connor had secured the ball and thrown it across the diamond to Hunston.
“I swear I’ll stand no more of this!” snarled Buckhart, as he started up from the bench. “I’m going to put my brand on somebody if the whole herd stampedes over me!”
Dick seized him by the arm and checked him, pointing toward the gate.
“Who are those men?” he asked.
Through the gate came a broad-shouldered chap, and following him there appeared twenty more burly individuals. They were dressed in rough, working clothes, and every man had his coat off and his shirt sleeves rolled up.
The Texan uttered a cry of grim satisfaction and delight.