"We're going to trim you to-day, Spark," asserted Walter Shackleton, as he crouched froglike behind the bat. "There are no quitters on the team now."
"Don't alarm me—please don't!" implored Dale. "It's most unkind, Shack."
Fred Hollis was the first one up. He batted a grounder through Bubbs and reached second. Then came Brooks, who romped to first on an error by Netterby, although Hollis was held at second.
"Joseph," said Hodge, as young Joe Crowfoot stepped out, "I know your noble grandsire, and for his sake I'm not going to work you very hard to-day. I'll let you go right back to the bench in a moment."
"Mebbe so," muttered young Joe. "We see."
Then he picked out a good one and lifted a long fly into the field.
"Hold your bases! hold your bases!" shouted the coachers at Hollis and Brooks.
Bunderson, really looking something like a balloon with his round body, made a hot run for the ball and pulled it down close to the foul flag.
A moment before the ball struck in the fielder's hands both coachers shrieked:
"Run!"