“I saw you were going to cover the bag. I was playing too deep to cover it for the throw.”
Starbright slapped Morgan on the shoulder.
“You had ’em guessing, my boy.”
“Rot!” growled Dade. “I’ve got a crockery wing. It went back on me in a pinch. Still I might have stayed in the game. I’m afraid I squealed.”
Then they all sat still some moments. Of a sudden Browning turned on Morgan.
“Why didn’t you cover first when I went off after that foul in the third?” he rumbled, frowning. “We could have made a double play on it.”
“Oh, go on!” retorted Dade. “It wasn’t your ball. Why didn’t you let Hodge have it and stick to the bag? Play your own position and you’ll do better.”
“You made a nice mess in muffing that short throw from Hodge in the seventh!” snarled Rattleton, glaring at Badger. “That let in a run. Why don’t you do your neeping slights—I mean your sleeping nights?”
“Oh, you haven’t anything to say!” fiercely retorted the Kansan. “You muffed the ball when I picked up Tinker’s grounder and snapped it to you.”
“How did I know you was going to snap it underhand that way? You had plenty of time.”