Even as the ball landed in Bunderson's grasp Hollis and Brooks were off.
Abe lost a little time in turning to throw toward second. This lost time enabled Brooks to reach the sack safely, while Hollis landed on third.
Crowfoot skipped down to first, hoping his fly might not be caught, but he turned back in disappointment.
"I told you I'd let you rest, Joseph, my boy," said Bart.
"You near make bad mistake," retorted the young redskin. "You near guess wrong that time."
"I confess it," nodded Hodge. "You gave me a heart throb when you smashed the sphere."
"We need these runs, Barking!" called Sparkfair, as the next batter walked out.
"It's a deuced poor game, don't you know," said Barking. "I'm really getting sore on it, by Jove! I wish they would take up cricket. Mr. Merriwell ought to introduce some good English game into this school."
"Hello!" said Hodge; "here's a pickle from Piccadilly. Here's a blooming Britisher—in his mind. What are you going to do to me, Johnny Bull?"
Barking was actually flattered. He enjoyed being mistaken for an Englishman.