“I don’t like that,” he said, glaring at Chot.
“Sorry,” responded the latter and made ready to throw to Captain Biddle, who, with the bases full and no one out, was confident that he could save his side from a whitewash, at least.
He struck viciously at the first ball thrown, but missed. He tried again, but Chot was using all the speed he had, resolved that the Cleverdale team should be whitewashed until the end. Two strikes were called on Biddle. Then came one just where he wanted it—or, so it seemed to him. He struck with all his might, and succeeded in tipping the ball. Not enough to deflect it from its course however, and it landed in Tom’s mitt and Biddle was out.
Corker knocked a long fly into left, but Lorrens had no difficulty in getting under it, and the first of the eighth was over.
Winton went out in one, two, three order, in the last half of the inning, and the ninth opened with Strange at the bat. Cleverdale was resolved to have another try at scoring.
Strange succeeded in bunting safely, Tom getting the ball, but fumbling it until it was too late to throw to Fleet.
Burton waited and got his base on balls. Chot had sent over a couple of teasers and the umpire had ruled them balls, and Chot realized when too late that he had made a mistake.
Two men on bases and no one out.
Windle was up, a look of determination on his face.
Then Chot commenced to burn them over. Such dazzling speed had never been seen in the Creighton pasture before. Mr. Creighton nearly forgot that he was umpiring in his amazement at the way Chot sent the balls whizzing over the plate.