The manager sat down, with a gesture of despair.
“You must be a millionaire in disguise!” he exclaimed, in deep disgust.
“Mebbe I be,” grinned the jay.
In the first half of the ninth St. Paul made a desperate try to score and got a man to third by a base on balls, a sacrifice, and a stolen base, but Webber “put on steam” and retired the side with the runner still on third.
Then Minneapolis came to bat, determined to get in and do something. Stebson talked to his men.
“Bunt,” he said. “Get hit by the ball. Do anything to get on first. It’s the only show. You can’t hit this fellow out, but there must be a way to do something with him.”
So the first man up pretended to try to dodge one that came close to him, but dodged into the ball.
It nearly knocked a rib out of him, and he fell in a heap.
“Take your base,” said the umpire.
“Bet four dollars he won’t jump inter another one this game!” said the pitcher.