“That’s right, I saw him do it!” asserted Ned, who had run in to add his protest to that of Dick.
“What’s all the crabbin’ about?” growled Slade, swaggering up to the group. “You was out by a mile!”
“I’m not crabbing,” declared Dick. “I’m just calling the umpire’s attention to some of your dirty playing!”
“Who says I play dirty ball?” demanded Slade, doubling up his big fists menacingly.
“I do, for one!” Ned spoke quietly, but his gray eyes were blazing. “I saw you hook your fingers under Dick’s belt when you stood behind him on the bag!”
“You mean you think that’s what you saw,” sneered Slade. “The umpire says he’s out and that settles it!”
There seemed no chance for further argument, and Dick walked out to center field in a savage humor, which was somewhat appeased when Ned, a moment later, struck the slugger out with three fast ones. The next Bedford man was out at first, and a long fly to Dick ended the inning.
Ned Blake was up in Truesdell’s half and brought the crowd to its feet with a screaming three-bagger.
“Wow! That’s cracking ’em out!” yelled Wat Sanford. “It’s a crime we didn’t have a couple of men on bases when Ned got hold of that one!”
“There’s nobody gone, any kind of a hit will mean a run now!” cried Charlie Rogers.