“Where is Crowfoot?” groaned Ready, as he returned to the bench.
“Carker couldn’t find him, I presume,” said Browning.
Berlin Carson walked out to the plate, like a lamb to the sacrifice.
“Another victim!” cried the players.
Carson set his teeth.
“We’ll see!” he muttered, and then he smashed out a long drive, which Webster dragged down.
Two men were out.
Rattleton began to pull on a sweater.
“Stop that!” ordered Frank sharply. “This game isn’t over. Sit still until it is!”
“It’s just the same as over,” muttered Harry. “We’re beaten in good shape.”