Ted and Tommy moved back out of the way, and the game went on.
“Two out all out, isn’t it?” asked Sammie, as George Squire knocked a little fly that was caught by Dan.
“Yes, two out all out,” agreed Tommy. “Say, I wish we had enough for a regular nine,” he went on. “I’d like to play in a match game.”
“You’re too small.”
“I am not. Some day I’m going to get up a regular nine, and have uniforms, and bases, and a lot of balls, so if we lose one we don’t have to stop the game. I wish——”
“You’re out!” interrupted Dan, calling to Frank Nixon, who was up at the bat. “Three strikes and you’re out! Sam caught that last one.”
“That’s only two strikes!”
“It’s three!” repeated Dan.
“I’ll leave it to Tommy!” cried the other. “Was that three strikes, Tommy?”
“I didn’t see,” our hero was forced to admit. “I was cleaning the dust off my clothes. But we’ll give it. Come out in the field, fellows,” he called to his side.