“Strike him out, Proud,” he directed. “He can’t hit!”
“Ay, so do!” chanted Jonesie, circling his bat wildly about his head and dancing a sort of Highland fling at the plate. “Be neither pitiful nor kind, Mr. Proudfoot! Dispose of me quickly, I pray! Who am I to stand here and dare your Jove-like bolts? Ah, Mr. Proudfoot——”
“Ball!” quoth Gus.
“Get off the plate, Jonesie,” directed Rufe Brown. “Want to get one in the ribs?”
“Not I, forsooth! See, I retreat. Mr. Umpire, I request you to observe that most promptly I retreat! With all my heart——”
“Str—— Ball two,” said the umpire.
“What? Say, you cross-eyed chump, what do you think you’re doing here? Are you umpiring or—or——” Rufe choked with emotion. Proudfoot rolled his eyes to heaven and crossed his arms to express his contempt for the decision. Whereupon Clint Wrenn started abruptly for third base and——
“Look out!” bawled the pitcher.
“Third! Third!” shouted Billy Carpenter frantically.
“Out of my way!” yelled Rufe, stepping forward with the ball.