Chub and Ben came trotting in as Springer took his place at the plate. The captain requested two younger boys to back him up and return the balls he chose to let pass, and then Hooker toed the slab, resolved to show these fellows what he could do. He put all his speed into the first ball pitched, a sharp shoot, which caught Springer on the hip, in spite of Phil's effort to dodge it.
"Say, what are you tut-trying to do?" spluttered the batter, as he hobbled in a circle around the plate.
"That one slipped," said Hooker. "I got more of a twist on it than I intended."
Phil picked up the bat, which he had dropped, and resumed his position. Three times Roy pitched wildly, and then when he finally got the ball over, Springer met it for a clean single, and trotted to first.
"Now play the game, fellows," called Eliot, from behind the pan.
Hooker's small eyes glittered as Rodney Grant stepped to the plate. Like a flash he pitched, again using an in-shoot.
Grant stepped back, held his bat loosely and bunted. As bat and ball met, the Texan's fingers seemed to release the club, and it fell to the ground almost as soon as the ball. Like a jack-rabbit he was off, shooting down the line toward first, while Springer, who had known by the signal just what was coming, romped easily to second.
Hooker had not intended for Grant to bunt that ball, having tried to send it high and close; and now in his haste to secure the sphere, he stumbled over it, and ere he could recover and throw, the speedy boy from the Lone Star State was so near first that Eliot shouted, "Hold it!"
His face flushed, his under jaw outshot a bit further than usual, Roy returned to the box, ignoring Chipper Cooper, who was cackling with apparent great delight.
Tuttle waddled toward the pan, bat in hand.