“Rotten!” cried the man with the dog. “He was out! Shoot the umpire!”
“Oh-h-h, go choke yourself!” cried several of the Yale men.
One strike and one ball had been called. Dade gave Gamp a drop, and Joe met it. The ball sailed away into deep center, while Browning sprinted to bring in the score that would tie.
Ephraim Gallup made his long legs fly in his run to get under the ball. It did not seem that he could reach it by many feet, but he hurled himself forward in a last furious effort, and got his hands on it. Then he went whirling end over end and held fast to the ball till he could rise and hold it up.
“Out!” was the decision of the umpire.
“Ah-h-h!” shouted the man with the dog. “Even that wasn’t a hit! Now they’ll get after the boy!”
The crowd applauded Gallup’s remarkable catch, even Inza Burrage being led to clap her hands, although she declared she was sorry he held the ball.
“Don’t know when I’ve worked as hard as that before,” grumbled Browning, “and all for nothing. It makes me very tired.”
“Heap good work now,” said Old Joe to Dick, as the latter rose from the bench. “Joe, him lookin’.”