“Wait, my boy. Many a pitcher, as you know, does that, when he feels it in his bones that the batter is able to hit the ball. Besides, perhaps he knows that the next man is an easy mark for him,” remarked the gentleman, who seemed to be quite at home with regard to the fine points of the game. “That Smith, Jr., is the left fielder, and I have seen him send the ball out of sight. But his brother is no pie either, and if Frank thinks he’s going to mow him down he has another guess coming,” muttered Lef, eagerly watching, and ready to howl should the batter connect. “One strike!” announced the umpire, though the man had not swung at all. With the next ball he did strike viciously, but the merry plunk as the horsehide sphere settled comfortably in the big mitt of Paul Bird told that he had failed to properly gauge the line of its rifleball flight. After that came a foul and two balls. Frank believed he had his measure taken, and it was with the utmost confidence that he sent in one of his tantalizing out-curves. “You’re out!” shouted the umpire. The man on first had not dared run down, for he knew Frank’s battery mate was a remarkably accurate thrower to second; and that only on rare occasions had any opposing player purloined that sack while Paul Bird stood behind the plate. “Only one down!” shouted the coach near first, dancing about in an effort to divert the pitcher’s attention from his business; but Frank was up to all such stale tricks, and paid no attention to Snodgrass, his eye being on Lacy at the bat, and Smith, Jr., on the initial sack. Lacy was reckoned the dude of Bellport High. He always seemed as though “walking on eggs,” as some of the Columbia fellows said, and his manner of dressing in the very latest style had gained him the name of being a dandy. But when it came to covering that short field he had few peers among the school teams in that part of the country. He could also lace them out on occasion, too, having that very desirable quality in a successful player, called a “batting eye.” Frank knew him of old, and played him cautiously. In spite of his care, however, Herb reached out and tapped one of his outshoots. The ball went plunging in the direction of short, and the crowd gasped to see how that acrobatic Tom Budd did his part of the business. He threw himself headlong at the passing ball, as though his legs were unable to carry him fast enough. They saw him turn a complete somersault and land on his feet like an acrobat in the circus. “Wow!” howled the amazed Bellport players, as Tom whirled and sent the ball to Seymour on second, who instantly relayed it to Lanky just in time to cut off the leaping Lacy while he was yet in the air. “A double! What do you think of that for playing?” shrieked the Columbia crowd, standing on their feet, and waving the colors of their school as if frenzied.