An' they tried to switch back on me. But nix!
We're goin' to git a chanst to hit that lively ball,
An' they're goin' to git a dose of their own
medicine. Now, you dead ones--come back to life!
Show me some hittin' an' runnin'.''
``Daddy, you mean they run in a trick on us?''
demanded Lane, with flashing eyes.
``Funny about Natchez's strong finishes!''
replied Daddy, coolly, as he eyed his angry players.
They let out a roar, and then ran for the bats.
The crowd, quick to sense what was in the air,
thronged to the diamond and manifested alarming
signs of outbreak.
Sam Wickhart leaped to the plate and bandished
his club.
``Sam, let him pitch a couple,'' called Daddy
from the bench. ``Mebbe we'll git wise then.''
Harris had pitched only twice when the fact
became plain that he could not throw this ball
with the same speed as the other. The ball was
heavier; besides Harris was also growing tired.
The next pitch Sam hit far out over the center
fielder's head for a home run. It was a longer
hit than any Madden's Hill boy had ever made.
The crowd shrieked its delight. Sam crossed the
plate and then fell on the bench beside Daddy.
``Say! that ball nearly knocked the bat out of
my hands,'' panted Sam. ``It made the bat
spring!''
``Fellers, don't wait,'' ordered Daddy.
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