Ware did his best to deceive big Bob Singleton, but Bob got in one of his lucky cracks and lined out a beautiful three-bagger. He would have tried to make it a homer, but Dick was on hand at the coach line back of third base and stopped him there. There was a shout of derisive laughter from the Fairport boys as Obediah Tubbs waddled out to strike. “Laff! Dern your picters!” shrilled the fat boy indignantly. “Mebbe you will laff out t’other corner of your mouth pritty soon!” Then, in a desperate endeavor to hit the first ball pitched, Obed swung with such violence that he was thrown off his feet, for he missed entirely. The bat flew out of his hands and sailed into the middle of the diamond, while he fell flat on his back, with a great grunt, as if the breath had been jarred from his body. At this there was another shout of laughter. “Pick up the poor little thing!” cried one. “Hit it where you missed it, Fatty,” advised another. “Look out for his bat!” shrieked a third. “He’ll kill somebody with it!” “Ding your old ground!” squeaked Obediah, as he rolled over and awkwardly rose to his feet. “It ain’t solid nohow! It wiggles!” Roberts gravely brought the bat to Tubbs, presenting it to him with a profound bow. “You may not need it,” he said. “It may not do you any good, but here it is.” “Oh, you think I won’t need it, do you?” piped the corpulent lad indignantly. “Well, I’ll show you!” When Roberts was again in position, Ware once more whistled a ball over, and a second time Obediah struck, missed, and threw his bat. This time it went spinning down toward third, and Macon made a comedy run to get out of the way. “It’s a plot!” shouted Roberts. “He is trying to kill our team or maim us so we can’t play the game.” “Drat that bat!” said Obediah. “This is the golldingedest, slipperyest thing I ever got holt of!” Once more it was returned to him. Ware was laughing. He regarded the fat boy with derision, fancying Obediah could not hit effectively unless by a blundering chance. This led the pitcher to use a swift straight ball, over the centre of the plate, and what followed caused him to come near collapsing, for this time Tubbs’ bat fell on the ball with a sharp report, and the liner that was driven out could not be caught by any one. “Laff! Dern your picters—laff!” squealed Obed, as he wildly ran down to first, his short arms held out at an angle from his shoulders and his hands pawing at the air as if seeking to assist in propelling him along. If any one fancied Obediah would be satisfied to stop at first he was mistaken, for the fat boy streaked on over the bag, darted promptly to the left, and made for second. Conway secured the ball and threw it swiftly to Crockett.