Springer's teeth grated together as he beheld the entire Wyndham infield prepare to handle Rod's bunt, while Newbert drove Josh back and held him as close as possible to the second sack. Suddenly the ball was whipped over the pan, high and close, in spite of which the batter succeeded in sending it rolling heavily into the diamond. But Newbert, racing forward as soon as the sphere left his fingers, scooped it cleanly with one hand and snapped it across to third without straightening up. The baseman was covering the sack in a position to get the long-geared runner, and, catching the ball, he put it on to Crane with considerable viciousness as Josh slid.
"Out at third!" shouted the umpire, with up-flung hand.
The attempted sacrifice had been turned into a miserable failure solely because the locals had known precisely what their opponents would try to do.
"I can't stand much more of this!" groaned Springer aloud. "It's worse than robbery! I'll have to get out."
Hearing the words, a rejoicing Wyndham sympathizer slapped him heavily on the shoulder. "Don't take it so hard," laughingly advised the familiar fellow. "It's just what everybody expected."
"Oh, is that so?" snapped Phil resentfully, turning his head to look up at the chap. "Well, if this was a square game they might get their expectations stepped on."
"A square game!" retorted the other. "What do you mean by that? What's the matter with it? So far, it's the cleanest game I've seen this year.
"It's the dirtiest game I ever saw! It's cuc-crooked from the start. Oakdale hasn't a sus-show."
"Of course she hasn't; she's outclassed. You Oakdalers are poor losers; you always squeal."
"Outclassed—nothing!" fumed Phil. "Oakdale is playing just as good baseball as Wyndham—and playing it on the level."