“Let him hit it! Encourage a hard-working man a little!” called another.
Coddling tried his level best, but that did not seem good enough, for he presently walked back to the bench, with three strikes marked against his record.
Snodgrass waited, and got his base, though Frank considered that the umpire was unusually severe with him in calling balls, when he cut the plate with at least one of those that counted against him.
“Now, Hough, you know what to do!”
“Yes, Hough, lam it good and hard over old Billings’ head. He’ll never get another like he did that first one. That was an accident!”
“You’ve got him up in the air, boys! Lead that horse into the stable!”
Dozens of like cries sounded everywhere. It is a part of the game to try and rattle the pitcher when such an emergency arises.
Still, that faint smile remained on the face of Frank Allen, as he prepared to take the measure of this hard-hitting Bellport player, who had broken the reputation of at least one promising pitcher.
With two out, and men on first and third, Hough certainly had reason to do everything in his power to make a hit. Then came the sharp shock as the bat met one of Frank’s curves on the nose, and the ball went shooting down toward third.
Shadduck stopped the speedy one as best he could, but it was coming like a comet, and he could not hold it. Jumping after the ball, he snatched it up. The chances of getting it to Paul were rather meagre, but it was his business to try, and he shot it for home.