For the second time that day, Villum sat down suddenly. The ball plunged into the cloud of dust, and a groan from the bleachers. When the dust cleared off, Villum was seen to be smiling blandly at Smith, holding the ball against the latter’s chest; Smith’s leg was hooked about Villum’s waist, and the Clipper was staring up with wild astonishment.
“You vas oudt,” exclaimed Villum. “You vos hooked me aroundt vhere I down sit, und you thought it vos der pase, yes, no?”
“Well, I’m jiggered!” gasped Smith.
The crowd roared with laughter at this evidence of Villum’s playing, but it fell into somber silence once more as Fardale came to bat and O’Day struck out.
Then Villum came up to the plate, and, in trying to hit the first ball over, he lost his balance and was hit himself. The umpire hesitated, then motioned him to first, and Olcott’s protest went unheeded.
“Yaw!” triumphantly blatted the Dutch lad, as he trotted down. “I toldt you I’d dood it! Britty soon der ball vill hit Chip a home run vor, you pet me!”
“Sacrifice, Clan,” ordered Merry quietly. “You can’t hope for a hit.”
“Why not?” said Clancy, pausing as he was going forth.
“Because we’re up against Southpaw Diggs. Bunt it.”
The red-haired chap tried hard to obey, but failed. Villum went to second, however. Murray stood square on the base line, trying to block him off, and Villum arrived at about the same time as the ball. He flung himself straight at the sack and Murray went down amid a cloud of dust, from which the ball was seen to roll. Instantly Villum jumped up and went tearing toward third, regardless of Lowe’s orders to hold second. Murray pegged the ball down to Craven, but made a poor throw. It was a close decision, but Villum got the benefit of the doubt.