Once Sprowl touched his bat, but he fouled the ball. He felt that he must have made a safe hit only for that light deflection of the bat just as he swung. “Did you see that, Mr. Umpire?” he cried. The umpire had seen nothing. Like Ready, Bart stepped onto the plate and turned to Sprowl. “I want to tell you something,” he said, in a cold, hard tone. “This is it: If you touch my bat again I’ll turn round and punch your face for you! Is that plain enough?” “I’d enjoy having you try it!” flung back Sprowl. “You’re quite certain to have the enjoyment.” “I haven’t touched your bat. You dreamed it.” “You hear what I said and take heed.” Then Hodge stepped off, but he was ready to hit, so that Wolfers could not catch him napping, as Ready had been caught. Wolfers took plenty of time and sent one straight over the outside corner. Sprowl again touched the bat with his mitt just as Bart started to strike. True to his threat, Hodge flung the bat aside and sailed into the tricky catcher with both fists. Sprowl seemed to expect it, for he snapped off his mask and met Hodge halfway. He did not last long, for Bart smashed down the fellow’s guard and struck him a blow that sent him down in a heap. What an uproar followed! Several of Bart’s companions rushed from the bench and seized him, while players of the other team hurried to get between the two. “Time!” yelled the umpire. Ladies in the stand screamed and one fainted. Men rose up and shouted incoherently, while the crowd from the bleachers poured onto the field. It seemed that the game would end in a free fight. In the midst of the excitement Seymour Whittaker forced his way into the midst of the struggling, wrangling mass of men. “Gentlemen!” he cried; “be reasonable! I’ve been watching this thing. I played ball myself once. I saw our catcher touch the batter’s stick! He did it twice and did it deliberately. The umpire may not have seen it. The batter warned our catcher. He had a right to be mad. Don’t break this game up in a free fight! You know I have wagered money on our boys. I believe they can win, but I want them to win honorably. Wolfers doesn’t need a catcher to help him by such tricks. He can pitch well enough to win without such aid. Let’s be square. Let those fellows settle their trouble after the game is over. We’re not rowdies here in Elkton. We want to see square baseball. This business will hurt the game. Go back and sit down, all of you.” These words were enough, although other men now declared that they had seen Sprowl touch Bart’s bat. The crowd was quieted, and began to walk off to the bleachers. Sprowl had been struck on the cheek, and Bart’s fist left a bad bruise there. He swore he would get even with Hodge. His companions induced him to agree not to press the matter until after the game was finished. Finally things quieted down and playing was resumed.