Holmes slanged Durfee while that youth returned to his place behind first base, and the others went back to their positions. Holmes was careful to keep inside the box on the next delivery, and as a result his second attempt was adjudged a ball. A third ball followed that and Yardley howled with delight. Holmes frowned; and when he sent the next delivery in quite forgot about his foot. The ball was a beautiful one, but Black let it go by and started to walk to first.
“Take your base,” said the umpire. Porter sent up a shout of angry denunciation, and Holmes hurried toward the plate.
“What kind of a deal is that?” he demanded. “That was a strike, and a peach, too! What are you giving us?”
“You stepped out of your box,” replied the umpire, coldly. “You want to watch out for that. Batter up!”
“That’s a raw deal!” cried the Porter captain, running up. “He didn’t step out! I was watching him! Why don’t you give them the game and be done with it?”
“I saw it,” said the umpire. “I don’t want your judgment. Play ball.”
When things had calmed down, Black was sitting cozily on first base, and Durfee was at the plate, Hammel having taken his place in the coacher’s box. Holmes was angry; and from sheer bravado set to work digging new holes for his feet as near the back of the box as he could. Durfee found the first ball that came and sent it skipping away between third and shortstop. Black took second and Durfee was safe on first. Condit let Holmes pitch two miserable balls, and then found one to his liking and sent a Texas Leaguer back of first baseman that scored Black and put Durfee on third. Yardley cheers rang out loudly.
Not to be outdone, Alf chose a ball that seemed to please him and slammed it down toward third so hard that the Porter captain couldn’t handle it in time to get it across to first, and so made an absurd effort to catch Condit at second. Second baseman was not looking for the throw, and the ball went by him. Durfee went home, Condit took third, and Alf made second by the fraction of an inch.
After that it was a slaughter. [Wheelock cleaned the bases with a long drive over left fielder’s head], and when the inning finally came to an end, Yardley had scored eight runs! And, to use Alf’s language, the game had been put on ice. All that was necessary now was to hold Porter in her half of the ninth and that proved an easy task, for the visitors were angry, discouraged, and much disappointed. Eight to three was the final score, and Mr. Holmes left the field sadly disgruntled and with his fame much tattered.