“Never mind your hand, Jim!” yelled the second baseman. “Put it in here. Quick!”
Fred Rushton, who had hit the ball, was streaking it for second, and Jim, forgetting his injured hand, picked up the ball and threw it in. Fred saw that it was going to be a tight squeeze and made a slide for the base. The ball got there at almost the same time, and for a moment there was a flying tangle of arms and legs. Then Fred rose to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes.
“Never touched me,” he remarked, with a slight grin.
“No,” agreed Tom Benton, the second baseman. “It was a pretty close call though.”
He threw the ball to the pitcher and Fred danced about between second and third.
“Bring me in now, Jack!” he shouted to Jack Youmans, the batter. “Hit it right on the trademark.”
Jack made a savage swing but met only the empty air.
“Never mind, Jack,” called Fred cheerfully. “Better luck next time. What did I tell you?” he added, as the ball, meeting the bat squarely, went whizzing past just inside third.
Jim Dabney, who was playing close up, made a clever pick-up and threw it straight as a die for home. Fred had passed third and was legging it for the plate with all his might. But this time the ball had a shade the better of it, and Fred was nabbed just as he slid over the rubber.
“Good try, old boy, but you just didn’t make it,” cried Bob Ellis, the catcher, as he clapped the ball on him.