“I suppose,” continued Jonesie, “it’s awfully hard to hit a golf ball, James. They’re so small, aren’t they? Regular little pills! Did you ever hit one, James?”
“I’ll hit you if you don’t close your mouth!”
“Fie, James! You’re losing your temper! If you do that you’ll never make the Golf Team, I know. Now then, James! Hit behind the ball; you topped that last one, you know; and follow through, James, follow——”
Jimmy followed through all right, but the ball whacked against Jonesie’s protector—[Jonesie didn’t pretend to catch them] when struck at—and Gus crooned, “Striker’s out!” Tubby, running up, got the ball in time to hold Billy Carpenter at second. Jimmy Buell retired to the bench with dragging bat, talking all the way. Gordon, the next batsman, played his position in right field better than he batted. But on this occasion he found what he wanted in the first ball pitched, and swung hard. Unfortunately the ball started straight down the third-base line, and although Billy Carpenter bounded frantically to the left to get out of its way, it bounded off him and rolled toward second. Billy walked disgustedly to the bench, rubbing his leg, and Gordon proudly perched himself on first.
[“Jonesie didn’t pretend to catch them.”]
“Two gone!” called Jonesie cheerfully. “Play for the batter, fellows! And don’t forget the lesson!”
“Say, what’s this old lesson you’re always talking about?” asked Proudfoot as he squared himself to the plate.
“Never you mind, Horace Erasmus,” replied Jonesie. Proudfoot, who was not at all proud of his name as set down in the school catalogue, frowned.