“One strike!” called the umpire.
“Behave! behave!” exclaimed Wiley. “Why, he really tried to hit it before it left your hand, O’Neill.”
“Confound that fellow!” grated Hodge. “He’s getting on my nerves.”
“Don’t let him do that,” advised Frank. “It’s a part of his game. He always tries to worry the opposite side.”
Buck had better luck with the second ball, for he sent a little Texas Leaguer over the infield and easily reached first.
“What do you think of that?” cried the sailor. “O’Neill, you’re getting careless. You make me blush for you. Note the rosy color that suffuses my dimpled cheeks.”
As Merry picked out his bat and walked to the plate he was given a round of applause.
“Ahoy there, my old college chump!” hailed the sailor. “Waft an energetic one in this direction and permit me to demonstrate my dexterity by placing my diligent digits upon it.”
Frank seemed to obey, for he smote the ball full and fair on the trade-mark and sent it sizzing through the air straight at the speaker. Wiley seemed to have no more than time to put up his hands. The ball struck them and bounded off toward second base. Roden went for it as Badger came down the line. He could not get it in time to tag the Kansan, but he made a sharp throw to first and Frank was declared out.
“Score an assist for me!” cried Wiley. “I think I’ve lost a mitt, but I want to be credited with an assist. I’ll never ag’in invite him to bat the ball in my direction.”