Other players also snatched up some of the war clubs, and thus armed they bore down on the object of their solicitude. Meanwhile the bull had trotted straight for Ralph in the box. It looked as though the animal meant to follow up the advice of the joker in the grandstand, and ascertain whether he could knock the pitcher out of the box.
Ralph stood his ground. Indeed, he hardly knew what to do, such was the tremendous clamor all around him.
“Soak him one, you!” howled a fellow who stood on the top seat of the bleachers, and waved his arms.
It was so easy to tell another what to do just then, especially when in an apparently safe place himself.
“Yes, hit him in the eye, Ralph! Here’s your chance to win your own game!”
“Shoo the bully old boy away! He’s interfering, with our game!”
“It’s a set-up job of Columbia when they’re getting licked, that’s what!”
Ralph heard everything that was said. At the same time he drew back his arm, with the intention of delivering as swift a ball as he possibly could. Of course, it could hardly be expected that such a puny thing as a baseball would be sufficient to drive the bull away; but it was all Ralph could do—and he did it to the best of his ability.
“Straight to the bull’s-eye, Ralph!” came a last shout, just as he let go; and somehow it gave the boy more or less satisfaction to know that he had indeed done as directed.
The hard ball struck the animal with tremendous force on the side of the head, and, bounding off, fell upon the diamond. Perhaps the blow astonished the unwelcome visitor at the game. He seemed to stop a few seconds as if trying to figure just where the new assault had come from.