“I’m glad you think you’ll feel satisfied with a four-base hit, cap’n,” said Frank. “Go ahead and get it.”
Surely the Marine Marvel tried hard enough when he swung at the first ball delivered to him. The bat flew from his hands and went whizzing through the air.
“Duck!” he yelled.
Ready “ducked” just in time to let the bat go over him.
“I pray thee be cautious,” said Jack, as he straightened up. “What hast thou against me?”
“You’re too handsome,” answered Wiley. “I hate to behold a man who is handsomer than I.”
The bat was returned to him, and he again took his place in the batter’s box.
“Is that the way you hit it?” derisively called a spectator. “I don’t think you’ll drive it very far.”
“Think again, Willie,” advised the sailor. “You have one more coming, but you don’t look to me as if you could stand it. Your thinking apparatus must be strained to its full capacity to grind out one whole thought a day.”
Then he turned to Frank.