“Stay there, you big duffer!” muttered Wolfers. “You’ll never reach second.”
He was mistaken, for, although he kept the ball high, Rattleton managed to bunt, making a beautiful sacrifice.
The wonder from Wisconsin saw that the Merries knew something about scientific stick work. He braced up and did his prettiest with Dunnerwurst.
“A hit must get me!” murmured the Dutchman, as he missed the first one struck at. “Der oppordunity vas all mine. Yah!”
But Wolfers led him into batting a weak one to Cronin, who snapped it across the diamond.
Dunnerwurst was out.
Cross returned the ball to Cronin, for Browning had dashed toward third.
Browning got a handsome start and he ran like a deer. He slid for the bag.
Cross tried to block him, but Bruce went round the fellow’s feet and grabbed a corner of the bag, lying flat on his stomach just out of reach when the third baseman tried to touch him quickly.
Never could any person unacquainted with the big chap fancy it possible for him to purloin a bag so handsomely. Cronin was sore with himself for giving Bruce the opportunity. He had fancied it would be an easy thing for Cross to return the ball in time to catch the runner, in case the latter attempted to take third.