“You were pretty slow in trying to put that ball on me,” said Joe. “I slid into the bag without any trouble.”
“Oh, I guess I’m fast enough,” growled Henderson.
“You couldn’t catch me once in a thousand years,” gibed Joe.
“Wait till I get a chance at you next time,” retorted the third baseman.
“You couldn’t catch me if I were running on my hands,” declared Joe.
“You’ve got another guess coming,” replied Henderson, his face flushing.
Joe eyed longingly the stretch between third base and home. But Axander was partly facing him now and watching his every movement. The catcher too was on the alert. The chances of a clean steal home were too heavy to take. It would be little less than suicide.
But Joe was not yet at the end of his tether.
He stepped off the bag and edged along just far enough to draw a throw from Axander. The ball came like a shot into the hands of Henderson. Joe saw the look of triumph in the latter’s eyes. He made an apparent effort to go back that brought him within five feet of the third baseman. Then, as though finding he was trapped, he turned toward home with Henderson after him with outstretched arm.