“Are you hurt, Fred?” asked Jack, running to his chum’s side.
“I—I guess not,” was Fred’s reply. “But he bumped into me pretty lively.”
A lively discussion followed, and in his rage Reff Ritter threw the ball on the grass.
“You are all down on me—I won’t pitch any more,” he growled, and started to walk from the field.
“As you please,” answered Pepper. “We have won the game anyway.”
“That’s right!” was the cry. “No use of playing it out. Company B wins by the score of 16 to 14,—with only one man out in the ninth.” And so the game came to an end. Some wanted Ritter to pitch the inning out but he positively would not, and nobody cared to take his place.
“Well, it was a great game!” declared Jack. “I never was so interested before in my life.”
“I enjoyed it very much,” said Laura. “I am glad Company B won.”
“So am I,” added Flossie.
“That Ritter seems to be an ugly sort,” was Mr. Ford’s comment.