The news spread instantly and shouts of anger arose from the Boarders. “Kidnappers! Thieves! Let’s rush ’em!”
“None of that, fellows!” warned Dolph. “We’re here to play ball and we’ll do it. And we’ll lick ’em in spite of all!”
These sentiments were greeted with a cheer, a loud peal from the cornet and a frenzied beating of the drum. Good nature was restored. Dolph sent his team into the field just as Midget Green put in an appearance.
“I—I can’t find him, please, Jones,” he stammered. “I—I looked everywhere!”
“All right, Midget. Much obliged. We’re going to beat them without Sam. You look after foul balls, like a good chap.”
“I will,” Midget beamed and ran to his position on the stone wall. Morris began to pitch to Dolph, and Tyler Wicks, with bat in hand, came across to the plate to start the game for the Towners.
“Aren’t you going to pitch Sam?” he asked innocently.
“You know mighty well we’re not,” growled Dolph as he tossed the ball back to Morris. “Where’d you put him?”
“Put him?” Tyler grinned maddeningly. “Dolph, your suspicions wound me.”