The batsman tapped the plate and smiled contemptuously. Billy wound up again, stepped easily forward and sped the ball. It looked good until it was almost within reach of the impatient bat. Then it drifted lazily out of the straight and narrow path and the bat swung harmlessly over it. And George Connors, dropping to one knee, picked the ball almost out of the dirt! After that Billy wasted two, a high one outside and a low one that nicked the corner of the plate. By that time the coachers and the players on the visitors’ bench were howling encouragement to the batter and aspersions on the pitcher’s offerings. “He hasn’t got a thing, Gus! Pick out a good one! Make him pitch to you! He’s dead easy, Gus, old boy! This is the one!” It was. It was a nice slow drop that never pretended at any moment during its flight to be anything but a drop. And the batsman knew it was a drop and was ready for it. And after he had swung he took two full steps in the direction of first base before it dawned on him that there are drops and drops, and that that particular drop had held a drop too much! He retired to the bench scowling while Audelsville in the grand stand clapped with well-behaved enthusiasm, and Audelsville on the bleachers stamped and howled in abandoned glee. “One down!” bawled the coachers to the runners. “One gone!” called Madden from third. The next batsman managed to connect with Billy’s second offering and popped a high fly to leftfielder, going out without advancing the runners. The Providence captain was the next victim to Billy’s slants and turned away in disgust after watching just four deliveries float by him. Audelsville heaved a vast sigh of relief and applauded as Billy Younger trotted back to the bench. “That’s all well enough,” grunted Willard, “but they’ve got six mighty big tallies on that scorebook. We’ve got to do some hitting to get this game, fellows!” The rest agreed, all except Spider and Teddy, who were arguing heatedly over the question of how to score that second run. Spider declared that the runner should be credited with a steal, while Teddy insisted that it was somebody’s error, he didn’t know whose! “If it was anybody’s error,” said Jerry, “it was Chester’s. The big boob ought to have asked for time.” “The man stole on catcher,” suggested Tom. “Wasn’t it catcher’s error?” “No, because pitcher held the ball,” contradicted Willard. “It’s plainly Chester’s error.” “It was everybody’s error, I guess,” murmured Teddy, scowling at his scorebook. “Guess I’ll present everyone with one-ninth of an error!”