That broke Natchez's spirit. They quit. They
hurried for their bats. Only Bo remained behind
a moment to try to get his yarn ball. But Sam
had pounced upon it and given it safely to Daddy.
Bo made one sullen demand for it.
``Funny about them fast finishes of yours!'' said
Daddy scornfully. ``Say! the ball's our'n. The
winnin' team gits the ball. Go home an' look up
the rules of the game!''
Bo slouched off the field to a shrill hooting and
tin canning.
``Fellers, what was the score?'' asked Daddy.
Nobody knew the exact number of runs made
by Madden's Hill.
``Gimme a knife, somebody,'' said the manager.
When it had been produced Daddy laid down
the yarn ball and cut into it. The blade entered
readily for a inch and then stopped. Daddy cut
all around the ball, and removed the cover of
tightly wrapped yarn. Inside was a solid ball of
India rubber.
``Say! it ain't so funny now--how that ball
bounced,'' remarked Daddy.
``Wot you think of that!'' exclaimed Tom, feeling
the lump on his head.
``T-t-t-t-t-t-t-ta-tr----'' began Tay Tay Mohler.
``Say it! Say it!'' interrupted Daddy.
``Ta-ta-ta-tr-trimmed them wa-wa-wa-wa-with
their own b-b-b-b-b-ba-ba-ball,'' finished Tay.
OLD WELL WELL
He bought a ticket at the 25-cent window, and
edging his huge bulk through the turnstile, laboriously
followed the noisy crowd toward the bleachers.
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