“Take your time, Jim!” called Conly cheerfully. “Plenty of time, old man!”
But there wasn’t, for at that moment from the center of town came the wild alarm of a clanging fire bell!
For an instant everyone stood as though turned to stone; everyone save the Mannig pitcher. Perhaps he didn’t hear. At all events he shot the ball across the plate, right over the very center of it, and the umpire called a strike. And, as though that had been the signal, all the Laurelville players began shouting at once. Down on second the captain was calling wildly for “Time.” The umpire was surrounded by half a dozen players each explaining breathlessly. So “Time” was announced. Fultz came racing in from center field.
“What’s time taken out for?” he cried.
“Fire!” shouted the Laurelville captain, looking excitedly about for his cap.
“What’s that got to do with the game?” demanded Fultz.
“Why, we’re most of us members of the company,” was the reply. “We’ll go on with the game after a bit. Come on, fellows! We’ll have to run for it!”
And led by their redoubtable captain the Laurelville Baseball Team streaked off the field in the direction of the town. And behind it hurried most of the spectators, for a fire promised far greater excitement than even a baseball game. The Mannig players trotted up with surprised expressions on their faces, demanding to know what the trouble was. Burns turned to the umpire.
“Mr. Umpire,” he said, “we’re ready to go on with the game.”
The umpire looked nonplused.