“I tell you it is ripped! Let’s see it!”
“Go on and play the game,” shouted Phillips.
“I want to see that ball,” demanded Toby, advancing into the diamond.
“It’s all right, I tell you,” replied Frank impatiently. “Get off the field, Toby.”
“If it’s all right show it to me then.”
Frank muttered, stepped out of the box and tossed the ball to Toby. “Have a look, then, and hurry up,” he growled.
“Go!” yelled Toby. Instantly Billy Conners streaked for the plate, Toby stepped to one side and the ball went bounding across the base line. Pandemonium reigned. From second came Tubby, galloping for all he was worth, from first raced Tony. Phillips, after an instant of surprise, scurried after the ball. Billy swept across the plate. Toby waved Tubby on. Over near the fringe of the autos and traps Phillips was scooping up the ball. But by the time he had rescued it Tubby was rolling over and over in a cloud of dust across the plate and Tony was sliding, more scientifically but no less effectually, into third!
The entire infield flocked about the umpire. Six voices shouted together. At first Toby smiled gently and winked at Tony George. And Tony, breathless but delighted, sat on the bag and winked back.
“One trick,” murmured Toby pleasantly, “calls for another.”