Haggerty faced the batter.
“Nun-nun-nun-now you’re off!” shouted Gamp to the runner. “Pup-pup-pup-play away off. He can’t cuc-cuc-catch you in a year! Oh, what a good time! A-haw! a-haw! a-haw!”
Haggerty snapped the ball over to first, but Thornton got back all right, and Joe Gamp roared again.
“It is a farce, isn’t it?” smiled Frank, speaking in Capt. Hardy’s ear. “My team seems to be having fun with yours, old man.”
“Oh, wait some,” advised Hardy. “You will laugh out of the other side of your mouth in a minute.”
“Just keep that little cuss tut-tut-tut-throwing, Tom,” said Gamp. “Pup-pup-pretty soon he’ll get excited and tut-tut-tut-throw it a mile.”
But Haggerty did not make another attempt to catch the runner. He suddenly sent in a straight one for Bart, making it high.
Bart struck at it—and missed.
Frank was surprised, for Hodge, as a rule, could hit high ones.
“Oh, he is easy,” cried Ned Noon, derisively. “We’ll have him going after sky-scrapers in a minute.”