“Ho! ho! ho! hi! hi! hi! veni! vidi! vici! Columbia! Sis boom, ah!”
“Once more, fellows! You can do it! They’re going to pieces! See ’em creeping in, expecting to make a double play. Over the second base, and win the game, Ben, and the pennant!”
Allison meant to do that same thing. He took a firm grip on his bat, and settled in his box to strike. Since that first time he had faced Coddling three times, and on every occasion had connected with the ball, though twice he went out, once at first and again when trying to stretch a fine hit into a triple, much to the disgust of his backers.
The noise died away as if by magic. Every one was holding his or her breath, in the expectation of giving vent to a whoop when Allison had either done what he set out to do or passed out.
Seymour stepped out and whispered to the batter.
“He’s telling him to bunt!” cried a few, expecting that this would be the program; and not realizing that with the infield playing short it was next to suicidal to attempt anything along this order, and meant double play.
Both basemen were playing well off, because they had nothing to fear. Excitement was keyed up to top notch.
“Look out for Banghardt!” shrieked a coach; and Paul found that the center fielder had crept in, so that he came near being cut off from his bag.
Again Coddling wound up to pitch. Allison let the sphere pass.
“One ball!”