The man on first had not dared run down, for he knew Frank’s battery mate was a remarkably accurate thrower to second; and that only on rare occasions had any opposing player purloined that sack while Paul Bird stood behind the plate.
“Only one down!” shouted the coach near first, dancing about in an effort to divert the pitcher’s attention from his business; but Frank was up to all such stale tricks, and paid no attention to Snodgrass, his eye being on Lacy at the bat, and Smith, Jr., on the initial sack.
Lacy was reckoned the dude of Bellport High. He always seemed as though “walking on eggs,” as some of the Columbia fellows said, and his manner of dressing in the very latest style had gained him the name of being a dandy. But when it came to covering that short field he had few peers among the school teams in that part of the country.
He could also lace them out on occasion, too, having that very desirable quality in a successful player, called a “batting eye.”
Frank knew him of old, and played him cautiously. In spite of his care, however, Herb reached out and tapped one of his outshoots. The ball went plunging in the direction of short, and the crowd gasped to see how that acrobatic Tom Budd did his part of the business.
He threw himself headlong at the passing ball, as though his legs were unable to carry him fast enough. They saw him turn a complete somersault and land on his feet like an acrobat in the circus.
“Wow!” howled the amazed Bellport players, as Tom whirled and sent the ball to Seymour on second, who instantly relayed it to Lanky just in time to cut off the leaping Lacy while he was yet in the air.
“A double! What do you think of that for playing?” shrieked the Columbia crowd, standing on their feet, and waving the colors of their school as if frenzied.
“What sort of a human hinge have you got out there in short?” asked the gentleman alongside Lef; “I’ve seen some clever plays in my time, but that certainly beat them all out. Can that chap play baseball standing on his head?”
“Oh! that’s Tom Budd, and he’s always doing stunts. Sometimes he succeeds, but more often makes a muss of it,” grunted Lef, who had felt disgusted to see Bellport mowed down so easily when things looked bright for a run.