“Think?” cried Wiley, in his peculiar manner. “How can I miss it? Watch the fence and see me drop it over with the utmost ease.” “Oh, yah!” cried Dunnerwurst derisively. “You vill drop der fence ofer der pall with Vrankie bitching—I don’d think!” “Stop talking so carelessly,” advised Wiley. “You get your tongue all tangled up so it falls over itself.” Twirling his bat as if it was a light cane, the sailor advanced to the plate. “I am sorry for you, Merry,” he said jauntily. “I have to do it. I believe in setting a good example, and I’ll have to show these dopey dubs how to hit the ball. Once on a time I made a seven-base hit. I galloped round the diamond and came home while the fielders were chasing the merry sphere as it went dancing elusively away. As I reached the plate I heard one of the opposing players inform the umpire that I had failed to touch second sack with my dainty tootsie. I knew it was true. I likewise knew the umpire loved me now and would gladly claim he had seen me cut the cushion. Therefore I started round the diamond again and reached third before the ball was thrown in, thus making seven bases on the hit. I’ll be satisfied with four off you, Frank. It will be a great sufficiency.” No one save Wiley would have ventured to spend the time to relate such an incident before striking; but the sailor did most things after his own particular fashion, and no one seemed inclined to object. “I’m glad you think you’ll feel satisfied with a four-base hit, cap’n,” said Frank. “Go ahead and get it.” Surely the Marine Marvel tried hard enough when he swung at the first ball delivered to him. The bat flew from his hands and went whizzing through the air. “Duck!” he yelled. Ready “ducked” just in time to let the bat go over him. “I pray thee be cautious,” said Jack, as he straightened up. “What hast thou against me?” “You’re too handsome,” answered Wiley. “I hate to behold a man who is handsomer than I.” The bat was returned to him, and he again took his place in the batter’s box. “Is that the way you hit it?” derisively called a spectator. “I don’t think you’ll drive it very far.” “Think again, Willie,” advised the sailor. “You have one more coming, but you don’t look to me as if you could stand it. Your thinking apparatus must be strained to its full capacity to grind out one whole thought a day.” Then he turned to Frank. “We’re old college chumps, aren’t we, Merry?” he inquired. “Sure,” nodded Frank. “Then give me a straight one right over the plate. I don’t like that new kink you’re pitching. It’s like a foreign language to me. I’ll make it all right with you if you give me one I can hit.” He smiled in his bland manner and seemed to think Merry would comply. “Here it is,” laughed Frank. It seemed like a straight one, and the sailor swung hard a second time. He struck under it several inches, for the ball swerved upward and outward in the same remarkable manner that had bothered every batter to face Merry.