Kleinschmidt, the Blue’s left fielder, who had very neatly backed up third baseman and so prevented a second tally, tossed the ball back to Nelson in disgust. Burns, from third, was venting his anger on everyone within sound of his voice, and Nelson didn’t escape.
“No more gifts, Tilford!” he cried. “If you can’t put them over, hit him with it! Only don’t let him walk!”
Nelson turned back to the next batsman, suddenly experiencing a deep dislike for the whole business. They were all a crowd of muckers, he told himself, and he wished he hadn’t agreed to pitch for them. But now that he was in it he had to keep it up. So he tried to steady down and dispose of the batter. But Conly was exasperated over his wild throw and let the first delivery pass him, and the man on second got to third. A hit would mean a second tally. Nelson tried an outcurve, but the batsman only smiled. Then Nelson gave him a slow, straight ball, and the batter was caught for a strike. The score was two and one. Then came a third ball, and Nelson wondered what Burns would say or do if the batsman walked to first. But a drop improved the situation, even though Nelson was still, to use baseball parlance, “in a hole.” There was only one thing to do, and that was to put the ball over the plate and trust to the fielders. So he did it. But he didn’t have to trust to the fielders. The man at bat found the delivery, and sent it hard and straight toward Nelson. It was coming so swiftly that he might have been excused for letting it pass. But he reached up and brought it down, even though the shock staggered him for an instant, and then sped it to third. The inning was over, with the score one to one.
Mannig trotted in, and Conly picked out his bat. He found what he wanted in Mr. Somes’s second delivery, and hit safe for one base. Nelson followed with an attempted sacrifice that worked so well that he not only advanced Conly, but reached first safely himself by a hairbreadth. That decision of the umpire’s brought out wild protest from the Laurelville supporters, and an energetic “kick” from the Green-and-White’s captain. But the umpire wasn’t the sort to let a player disturb him for very long, and soon the captain had retired to his position, muttering and glowering. Burns fouled out to catcher, and Kelly, the Mannig shortstop, was thrown out at first, Conly and Nelson each securing a change of base. When Kleinschmidt came to the plate, what was earnestly required was a safe hit, and, being an obliging chap, Kleinschmidt supplied it, sending the ball whizzing between first and second basemen, and bringing in both Conly and Nelson. And Mannig’s war whoop sounded excruciatingly. Harrison waited for something pleasing, but waited a little bit too long, and the side was out. But three to one looked very good to Mannig, and Burns begged Nelson to hold the opponents down.
By this time Nelson had forgotten his displeasure and went into the box ready to do his level best. And he did it. The first two men struck out like children, and, although the third reached his base on a hit and an error of shortstop’s, the fourth batsman could do nothing against Nelson’s puzzling delivery, and followed in the ignominious footsteps of the first couple. And Mannig cheered and capered, and showed very plainly that they were terribly pleased about something.
It was in the fourth that Bob vindicated himself. Simpson fanned out. Then Fultz, having reached first by being hit on the elbow with the ball, stole second a moment later. Bob came to the plate and allowed two deliveries to pass him. The umpire confirmed his judgment. With two balls to his credit, he wasn’t going to accept any old thing, and so he waited for Mr. Somes to oblige him with something nice. And while he waited, the first real trouble occurred.
Fultz, down on second, was keeping both second baseman and shortstop very much worried. He had shown his ability at stealing bases, and they were watching him as though he were a mouse, and they two very hungry cats. That was all right, but when the shortstop, unseen by the umpire, who was back of the pitcher, undertook to hold Fultz by the arm, the runner objected. He not only objected, but showed the fact by sending the Laurelville player over on his back by a well-applied shove. Then the second baseman took a hand in the argument, and Fultz went down with a blow on his jaw. At that moment the pitcher ran up with the ball, and dug it, none too gently, into Fultz’s ribs, and, as Fultz was reclining somewhat dazed a yard from base, Laurelville claimed that he had been put out.
But the umpire couldn’t see it that way. So time was called, and while several incipient riots took place Mannig and Laurelville argued it over angrily, each side threatening to take its team off the field. Finally, the umpire took a hand at threatening. His threat was that if they didn’t go on with the game at once, he’d award it to Mannig. Whereupon the spectators were finally dispelled and the field cleared.
The incident hadn’t increased the entente cordiale, and the opposing players eyed each other angrily. But in a moment there was a diversion. And Bob caused it. Others might have lost their heads for the time being, but not Bob. Mr. Somes, still aggrieved, was off his guard for an instant, and Bob took advantage of the fact. His bat met the nice, straight ball with a loud crack, and in a moment he was speeding around the bases, and Fultz, sufficiently recovered from his treatment to be able to run, trotted leisurely across the plate in a disdainful manner, which said as loudly as words, “It’s a shame to do it!”
Away out, past center fielder, who was doing a lot of tall running, the ball had dropped softly to the ground. Bob swung around second and made for third. Center fielder reached the ball, scooped it up, and hustled it toward shortstop, who had run out for it. Bob spurned third base under flying feet and set his face homeward. A chaos of sound reigned. Shortstop swung about and threw the ball frantically to the plate, where the catcher, for what to him had seemed an age, had been awaiting it with outstretched hands.