“He has a lame ankle to-day.”
“Don’t you think it! That’s a bluff. He was afraid to pitch against us, and so he put up that squeal about a lame ankle.”
“But the rest of his players say his ankle is lame.”
“He gets round on it all right, don’t he?”
“He limps.”
“Well, a lame ankle isn’t much beside a lame wing. Hey, there, Lem, what are you doing?”
Cross had reached for a wide one. He shook his head and settled his feet into position.
“He’s trying for the fence,” said Wolfers. “Better stop him.”
Instantly Lawrence rapped on the bench in a manner that caused Cross to give him a look. The manager signaled for the batter to attempt to single.
“Oh, it’s easy!” growled Cross.