“Play ball!” gruffly bade the umpire.
Captain Spunk advanced to the slab.
“Gimme a low ball,” he ordered, sticking out his bat to indicate the proper height that would meet his wishes.
Captain Fat rolled the ball rapidly between his palms, and thus having imparted to it what he fondly believed was a mysterious twist, hurled it.
“One ball!” cried the umpire.
Captain Spunk banged the slab with his bat.
“Aw, gimme a low ball over the plate!” he urged.
Again the pitcher rubbed twist into the sphere, and out in center—field you hung upon his motions.
“One strike!” declared the umpire, and a great shout of derision arose from the North Stars and their adherents.
