“Dat may be ernough fer dis kind of a game.”
“Nonsense! We’ll make ten runs before we are through, see if we don’t. All we have to do is to keep right after them. See how hard we hit the ball last time. Start it off, Maloney, by driving out a nice little single.”
Maloney, the first hitter, vowed that he would, and walked up to the plate with the air of a conqueror.
The first ball was an underhand rise, and the batter popped it into the air, so that Merry easily handled it when it came down. The first man was out. Maloney swore beneath his breath as he retired to the bench.
Flobert went after an out shoot, and up went another infield fly, which Ready secured.
Nesbitt was not a heavy hitter, and Merry easily caused him to fan at the first two.
“What do you think of that?” cried Ready. “They go out in order just as fast as they get up to strike.”
Nesbitt, however, did not fan, as expected, but drove a hot one at Dick Merriwell, who jumped for it, failed to handle it, and let the runner reach first. Dick ran back for the ball, which had gone through him. Seeing this, Nesbitt started for second.
Dick got the ball, picked it up quickly, threw toward second, but threw so high that the ball went ten feet over Rattleton’s head.
Over second raced the runner, while both Browning and Carson got after the ball, which was bounding merrily away toward the fence.