“The squeeze, Cooper,” hissed Nelson in Chipper’s ear, as the little shortstop rose from the bench. At the same time Jack assumed a pose that told Stone what was to be tried.
Ready to play his part, Ben crept off third, intending to dash for the plate and rely upon Cooper to hit the ball into the diamond somewhere.
Leach placed himself in position, nodded in response to his catcher’s signal, hunched his left shoulder a bit, and, whirling like a flash, threw to third. Stone had started forward with that shoulder movement by the pitcher, and was caught off the sack. Instantly, even as he sought to get back without being touched, he called for judgment on a balk.
The umpires had changed positions, and now the Wyndham man was behind the pitcher. In response to that demand for a decision on Leach’s movement he grimly shook his head.
“It was a balk—a plain, cold balk,” cried Nelson, on his feet.
“No balk,” denied the umpire, still shaking his head.
“In that case,” said the other umpire slowly, “Stone is out at third.”
Nelson ran into the diamond and confronted the Wyndham man. “It was as rank a balk as I ever saw,” he asserted hotly. “What kind of a deal are you trying to give us?”
“I saw no balk, and I was looking at the pitcher,” returned the umpire. “Get back to your bench.”
Nelson argued in vain, while the crowd made the air ring with hoots and cat-calls. Presently the umpire threatened to pull his watch and forfeit the game, whereupon the disgusted and angry Oakdale captain walked slowly back to the bench.