The connection, however, was so plainly an accident, and Squint himself
looked so bewildered, that every one roared with laughter.
The ball went almost straight up in the air over first, until it seemed
to lose itself in the sky. Fletcher came pounding down the base line,
while Bully Carson, behind first, sent a roar at Clancy.
The red-haired first baseman was not rattled, however. He calmly
stepped back, pulled down his cap, and waited. The ball came down like
a bullet and stuck in his glove.
“Out!”
Roar after roar of applause went up. The Clippings, who had been
nervous and unsettled, instantly regained their poise and confidence.
“Take your time, Chip!” snapped Spaulding, from second.
“That’s the ticket, old man!” cried McCarthy encouragingly.
“L-l-lam into ’em!” piped up Chub.
Frank smiled. Burkett, who covered first for the Clippers, advanced to
the plate, pulled down his cap, and waited.
“We’re all behind you, old-timer,” chirped Clancy.
“Let him hit it, Chip!” cried Billy. None the less, he signaled for an
inshoot.
Burkett was plainly anxious to hit. Frank put over a fast inshoot. The
ball fairly smoked with speed, and Burkett swung too late.
“Strike--uh--one!”
“Land on him!” yelled Bully Carson. “All he’s got is speed!”
Billy called for another of the same, but Merry shook his head. He
guessed that Burkett wanted speed, and would be looking for it, so he
put over a fadeaway that drew Burkett for another strike.
“This fellow’s a cinch!” cried Billy. Burkett looked determined.
Studying him for a moment, Frank nodded at the signal for a jump ball.
He sent the sphere down to the plate waist-high. Burkett brought down
his bat, but the ball seemed to jump over it, and plunked into Billy’s
mitt.
“Out!”
Cheer after cheer rolled up, as Burkett sullenly retreated, and was
replaced by Bangs. The Clipper third baseman was a wiry, alert fellow,
and he chopped down his bat as if ready for anything that could come
along. Merry determined to let him hit.
So, without pretending to pitch, he merely tossed over the ball and
waited. Bangs gasped, then struck viciously. Another crack, and the
ball went on a bee line to McCarthy. And Dan fumbled it.
A groan swelled out from the crowd, but it changed instantly to a
cheer. For McCarthy had picked up the ball and slammed it over to
Clancy a yard ahead of Bangs.
“One, two, three!” yelled the crowd, confident now that it would see a
real game of ball. A storm of applause greeted the Clippings as they
walked in.
“Rotten fumble,” grunted McCarthy.
“Don’t you believe it!” cried Clancy, slapping his shoulder. “You
retrieved it before it had a chance to work, Dan. Fine business!”
“You’re up first, Dan,” said Merry. “Now go in and repeat!”
McCarthy grinned happily, and strode out to the plate. He waited while
Carson tossed over his warmers-up.
“This pie-eater’s pretty soft, Bully,” snarled Squint. “Let him hit. He
ain’t worth fanning.”
The lanky chap opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again, and
stepped into the box. Carson eyed him a moment, and the bleachers fell
silent in suspense.
“Speed fer him, Bully,” cried Fletcher. “He’s scared already.”
Carson nodded and wound up. The ball seemed to come with startling
speed. In reality it was a slow fader, and it fooled McCarthy
completely.
“Strike--uh--one!”
Squint returned the ball. Almost without a pause, Carson snapped over
a hot one across the inside corner. Dan was taken by surprise, and a
second strike was called. It was followed by a third.
“This bunch of rubes is soft!” chirruped Bangs from third.
“Whoop! Down they go!” cried Ironton, as the big Nippen stalked out.
“Who’s the cow?” inquired Murray, from second. Carson grinned.
“This is an animal show, Bully,” snapped Squint. “Watch the elephant
fan his ears!”
The crowd could not help laughing at the awkward figure of Nippen.
Carson burned a hot one across. Nippen swung, after it had plunked home.
“Gone to sleep at the switch!” grunted Squint, while the bleachers
roared a storm of advice and criticism. The big fellow flushed angrily.
“Hit him in the ribs and wake him up!” cried Murray.
Carson grinned again. He sent over a smoking-hot ball that forced
Nippen to leap back. The huge fruit-picker looked at him furiously.
“You watch out!” he cried warmly.
“Shut up, Nippen,” exclaimed Merry. “He doesn’t dare hit you.”
As if to disprove this, Carson launched another in the same place.
Nippen jumped back, and, as his bat fell, the ball struck against it
and rolled out into the diamond.
The big fellow leaped out toward first. Bangs darted in to secure the
ball, laughing as he did so. He straightened up with it, and slapped it
to Burkett, but a cry of amazement went up. Nippen had beaten out the
throw!
“Watch the elephant run!” shrieked the fans.
Clancy walked out to the plate, while Chub went down to coach at first.
“Hello, carrot-top!” growled Squint. “Watch out you don’t scorch the
ball on his thatch, Bully!”
Carson knew that Clancy was dangerous. He put over a fast drop, but
Clan refused to bite. Then came a slow fadeaway, and the red-haired
chap took it on the nose.
There was a groan of dismay. The ball soared high, and Merrell raced
back toward the fence. Then he stopped, and waited, and the ball came
down into his glove.
Nippen, showing poor judgment, had dashed for second as soon as the
ball settled softly in Merrell’s glove. The center fielder did not wait
an instant, however, and threw the ball to Murray, who made Nippen an
easy out.
The Clippings were retired. The inning was over, without a run.
“We’re holding them, fellows,” said Frank quietly, as they walked out.
“Keep up the good work, and we’ll win, sure.”
“We’ll do it, Chip,” cried Spaulding.
“L-l-look out for Ironton,” snapped Chub, as the Clipper shortstop
walked out. “He’s l-l-like-l-ly to start something.”
Billy Mac evidently thought the same thing, for he signaled for the
double shoot. Merry shook his head, and compromised on the jump ball.
Ironton struck vainly.
“Hoop-a-la!” sang out Clancy. “He’s going!”
“Let him soak it,” pleaded McCarthy. “We’re all behind you, old scout!”
Billy called for a fast drop. Although doubtful of its wisdom, Frank
put it across, and Ironton murdered it. With a clean crack, the ball
began to soar toward center field, and Ironton went racing toward first.
“Wake up, Nippen!” roared the fans. “What’s the matter with the
elephant?”
The huge fruit-picker stood staring up at the ball. Suddenly he turned
and began lumbering toward the fence. He did not even look over his
shoulder at the ball, but continued through the ten-foot gap, while the
crowd sent a storm of catcalls after him.
“He must be going for a swim!” gasped Merry.
“Whoop!” yelled Dan McCarthy. “Look there!”
Nippen had turned abruptly. The ball was seen to fall squarely into his
glove--and stick! A wild roar rose from the crowd, then it died away
into a groan, as the base umpire motioned Ironton to hold third.
“What does this mean?” exclaimed Frank, walking back. “That ball was
caught!”
“Outside the fence,” said the umpire. “That gap shouldn’t be there
by rights. It went over the fence, and Ironton is entitled to his
three-bagger.”
“By gum!” yelled McCarthy wrathfully. “What kind of----”
“Quiet!” snapped Frank.
He turned and waved back his angry players, who were crowding forward.
“That’s a mighty queer decision,” he said, forcing himself to calmness.
“Does it go for every ball that drops outside the fence?”
“Yes,” said the umpire.
Frank saw that the umpire regretted his hasty decision, but would not
change it.
“All right,” he said.
The crowd looked at it otherwise, however. One howl of indignant
surprise went up as Ironton was seen to be safe. The mob threatened to
pour out on the field, and only when Frank was seen to be taking up his
position again did the fans restrain themselves.
As for the Clippings, they could not understand the decision. It looked
to them like foul play, though Merry saw that the umpire had not meant
to be unfair. Nippen started to bellow out his rage, Spaulding managed
to quiet him, and the game proceeded. But the Clippings had been
demoralized.
This became evident when Johnson popped up a foul. McCarthy went after
it, and let it drop. He made a throw to catch Ironton at the plate, and
sent the ball into the grand-stand wiring. Ironton scored and Johnson
stopped at second.
Frank saw that the balloon was going up, and wasted no more time. He
struck out Murray with three pitched balls, and then Carson slouched up
to the plate with a wide grin.
“Good-by!” he called cheerfully. “Here’s where we knock the Fardale
wonder out!”
His hopes were not realized, however. Frank handed him a fadeaway, and
Carson swung vainly. Billy called for the double shoot. Carson saw the
ball break for an in, and brought down his bat, but the sphere suddenly
curved away from him.
“Strike--uh--two!”
Mindful of the fellow’s threats, Frank put all his speed into the next
ball. It was a shoulder-high, straight one, that nipped the inside
corner of the plate. So fast was it, that Carson instinctively jumped
back, then flung down his bat with a curse. As he did so, Johnson
leaped toward third.
Billy whipped off his mask and slapped the ball to Dan. The lanky
chap took it and slammed it down on Johnson in a cloud of dust. The
Clippers were retired.
“See here, fellows,” pleaded Merry, as he picked out his bat, “this has
to stop right now! Cool down, everybody. Billy, you work Carson for
your base. Clan, get down to first and coach. We’ve got to break their
streak.”
And Merry went out to the plate, with a badly demoralized crowd on the
bench behind him.