Frank gave him a swift inshoot.
“G’way dar, ma-a-an!” shouted Johnson. “Yo’ll sho’ hurt yo’ wing if yo’ tries to keep dat speed up.”
“One ball,” announced Starbright.
“Dat’s right, Mistah Umpiah,” commented the negro. “Make him git ’em ober de pan. If he do, I’s gwine to slam it right ober de fence.”
The next one was too far out.
“Two balls.”
“Come on, ma-a-an,” urged Johnson. “Yo’ll nebber fool dis chicken dat way.”
Merry tried a high ball, using lots of speed.
The batter hit it fairly and laced it on a line far into the field.
“Yah! yah! yah!” he whooped, as he scooted for first. “Dat pitcher was made fo’ me.”