“Not much he has! Go it, both of you! He knocked the ball down, but never held it! Run, you lazybones. Make a homer of it, Lanky!”
It seemed as though two thousand people were madly shrieking as the runners sped around the bases. Smith, Jr., had recovered the ball, and was relaying it home in the effort to catch Ralph at the plate. A great slide, however, allowed the Columbia man to get his run. Meanwhile, Lanky had reached third, and was held on that bag by the coach.
With two out and a man on third Buster Billings swung his bat as if ready to put the ball over the head of Snodgrass in right field.
“Give me an easy one, Mr. Pitcher. I’m only learning how to swing on ’em. Coach Willoughby says——” and then Buster hit it!
The ball took an awkward turn, so that although both the pitcher and second baseman made a dive at it neither was fortunate enough to fork the elusive sphere. Amid a frightful clamor the fat Columbia student managed to get to first, where he presently stood, wiping his red face with a bandana.
Of course Lanky easily came in, and the score had been raised to two, which was an encouraging start for the visitors, considering who was doing the pitching.
Tom Budd proved an easy victim, however. Coddling took a brace, and although the Columbia shortstop certainly tried his best to connect with one of the bewildering drops which were handed up to him, he never touched the ball.
So the inning ended for Columbia, and they took the field. Confidence had, however, been installed in their hearts, for it seemed as if the terrible Coddling might after all not be so very hard to get at.
Frank had been up against most of these fellows before. He knew that they had a reputation as heavy hitters, and once started were hard to stop.
Snodgrass, the first man up, usually managed to draw his base. His very attitude at the plate bothered a pitcher, which was just what he meant it to do.