“Let up, you fellows. He’s going to pitch one now!” shouted a man near by; and again the interest was centered upon the pitcher’s box.
Coddling wound up and shot one over. Allison promptly struck, but his bat only whistled through the air, for the excellent reason that the ball was not within six inches of where he supposed it to be.
“Say, Mister Coddling is some at that sort of thing, you see!” howled a delighted Bellport supporter, jumping up and addressing the bleacher crowd.
“Sit down!”
“Hire a hall and take a day off!”
“Watch him send another disappearing ball down the line, boys!”
Coddling did. He had Allison guessing right from the start. Perhaps that was because the right fielder had not faced him as yet this season, and his enforced layoff had rather weakened his batting eye, for usually Ben was a reliable hitter.
When he struck for the third time, and the umpire waved him away, Allison only grinned and trotted back to the bench, shaking his head humorously.
“Bones” Shadduck took his place, and was immediately greeted with a series of entreaties to accomplish something.
“Hit her out, even if you are caught!” his admirers yelled.