“Two strikes,” called the umpire.
Frank laughed heartily, but Hodge was as mirthless and stern as before.
“What is he doing with you, Faunce?” cried Danny Griswold, from the seats. “He seems to be making a monkey of you.”
“I’d make a monkey of you if I had you by the neck, you little runt!” muttered the batter, under his breath.
Frank saw that Faunce was so angry that he trembled, and he felt that it would be easy to strike the fellow out.
He was right, for he sent in a third high inshoot, and the batter went after it just as hotly as he had gone after the others, missed it, and was out.
“Sorry for you, old man,” said Frank, quietly. “Don’t believe I can work that on you again.”
“I know you can’t!” snapped Faunce, as he walked to the bench.
“Costigan, come up and take your medicine,” laughed the scorer.
Joe Costigan, the left fielder, who had played third the season before, advanced to the plate. He was a stocky fellow, a reliable man, and a good hitter. It was said that he had no weak points at the bat.