Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Support; Or, A Triple Play онлайн

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“Ha! ha!” said Ready. “Things are coming my way.”

Batch looked resolute, and his next one seemed like a straight ball over the very heart of the plate. Ready went after it, but it proved to be an elusive drop, and was not touched.

“Batter is out!” said the umpire.

Batch laughed at Ready, who retired in a very dejected manner to the bench.

Carson came next, and he waited till Batch put one over. Then Berlin hit the ball hard, but drove it into the air, so that O’Grady easily captured it.

Two men were out, and the crowd began to realize that the game was rather swift.

Hodge looked grim and resolute as he advanced to the plate. He had his favorite stick, and Gamp called:

“Cuc-cuc-cuc-come, now, Hodge, pup-pup-pup-put us into the gug-gug-gug-game! Give us a regular Texas Leaguer!”

Bart was a splendid hitter when in good form, and the outfielders moved back a little, while the infield played deep. Noticing this, Bart suddenly sprang a surprise by bunting the first ball pitched.

The ball rolled down toward third, and Bart was off like a dart for first. The third-baseman was too far away to get it, and the pitcher was too astonished. By the time the catcher got the ball Bart was too near first for a throw to do any good.