“And I’m the coach. I say you shan’t pitch any more in this game, or, if you do, I’ll resign here and now. Captain Woodhouse, are you with me in this?”
“Oh, well, can’t you take a rest for a couple of innings, Fred, and pitch the last one?” asked the captain, adding: “if the Boxers will allow us to suspend the rules for you.”
“If I pitch at all, I’ll pitch the whole game!” cried Langridge fiercely.
“If you do I resign,” was the decision of Mr. Lighton.
“Well, it’s up to you,” said Woodhouse with a shrug of his shoulders, as if ridding himself of the burden. “Whatever you say goes.”
“All right, then I say Langridge goes to the bench. He’s not fit to pitch and he knows it.”
“What’s the matter with me?” demanded the youth haughtily.
“Do you want me to tell?” asked Mr. Lighton quickly, with a sharp look.
Langridge, without a word, walked into the dressing-rooms.