“Strike!” called the umpire sharply.
“Wha—what?” cried Nat.
“I said strike. It was right over the plate.”
“Plate nothing!”
“What’s he doing, calling strikes on you?” demanded Hiram.
“It looks that way,” spoke Nat.
“Well, say——” began the manager in his bullying manner, as he strode toward the umpire.
“Hold on now!” interposed Luke, who sometimes had better judgment than Hiram. “It’s all right. Don’t get excited. It may have been a strike. The fellows haven’t got on to all the points of the game yet this season. Go on.”
“All right,” growled Hiram. “But don’t you dare strike out, Nat.”
Joe’s next delivery was called a ball, though it was rightly a strike. Joe said nothing, realizing that the umpire was naturally a bit afraid of offending Hiram and Luke too much. Then Nat knocked a little pop fly, which was easily taken care of by the second baseman, and the first man on the regular, or school team, as it was called, was out.