At length Umpire Fuller waved his
hand, enjoining silence and calling time.
``Take it off or I'll fine you.''
From his lofty height Gilbat gazed down upon
the little umpire, and it was plain what he thought.
``What do I care for money!'' replied Red.
``That costs you twenty-five,'' said Fuller.
``Cigarette change!'' yelled Red.
``Costs you fifty.''
``Bah! Go to an eye doctor,'' roared Red.
``Seventy-five,'' added Fuller, imperturbably.
``Make it a hundred!''
``It's two hundred.''
``ROB-B-BER!'' bawled Red.
Fuller showed willingness to overlook Red's
back talk as well as costume, and he called,
``Play!''
There was a mounting sensation of prophetic
certainty. Old fox Wehying appeared nervous.
He wasted two balls on Red; then he put one over
the plate, and then he wasted another. Three
balls and one strike! That was a bad place for a
pitcher, and with Red Gilbat up it was worse.
Wehying swung longer and harder to get all his
left behind the throw and let drive. Red lunged
and cracked the ball. It went up and up and kept
going up and farther out, and as the murmuring
audience was slowly transfixed into late realization
the ball soared to its height and dropped
beyond the left-field fence. A home run!
Red Gilbat gathered up the tails of his duster,
after the manner of a neat woman crossing a
muddy street, and ambled down to first base and
on to second, making prodigious jumps upon the
bags, and round third, to come down the home-
stretch wagging his red head.
Pages:
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32