Jack Nelson, the Oakdale captain, reprimanded Shultz when, following a strike-out, the team trotted to the bench. “You should have had that fly, Charley,” said Nelson sharply; “and you would have got it if you’d went after it with both hands instead of one. That’s the first time I’ve seen you drop a ball you could reach as easily as that one. Quit your grandstanding and play baseball.” Shultz shot Nelson a sullen look. “Oh, what’s the use to holler?” he retorted. “I knew best whether I could reach it with both hands or one. I think I know how to play that field.” Nelson’s teeth came together with a click, and for a moment, his cheeks burning hotly, it seemed that his annoyance and anger would master him, but he succeeded in holding himself in check. “You can play the field all right, Shultz,” he said, “and it’s just because you can that I disapprove of that attempted fancy flourish. We’ve got to hold these chaps down somehow.” “Oh, don’t worry,” laughed Osgood optimistically. “We’ve got them beaten now. We won the game in the first inning.” “Mebbe we did, but we didn’t paound Lefty Leach off the slab,” reminded Sile Crane. “Gall hang that feller! I hit him once, but I’ll be switched if I can seem to do it ag’in. He’s sorter got me locoed!” “He seems to have rattled everybody belonging to this whole bunch,” said Chipper Cooper. “We ain’t any of us doing ourselves proud—’cepting old Stoney.” Nor did they improve in the first of the sixth. Leach was working a sharp drop that had them all breaking their backs to the distasteful music of the Wyndham cheers. Grant was effective in the latter half, and the seventh opened with him at bat. “Start us off, Rod,” implored Nelson, as the Texan secured his bat and left the bench. “Let’s sew this thing up with some more runs.” The fellow from the Lone Star State made no reply, but he squared himself grimly in the batters’ box and took the measure of one of Lefty’s drops. The hit was, appropriately, a Texas leaguer, and the visiting spectators howled joyously as Rod capered to first. Chipper Cooper, coaching on the line back of first, flapped his arms wildly and crowed like a rooster. As the cheering of the little knot of Oakdale Academy students died down somewhat, Chipper was heard whooping joyously: “Here we go! The lucky seventh! Don’t try to steal second, Rod; that would be a base thing to do. We’re after old Lefty again, and now we’ll finish the job we started in the first round.” On the opposite side of the diamond Phil Springer, likewise enthused and excited, was wildly stuttering at the same time: “Gug-gug-great work, Gug-Gug-Grant. Some cuc-cuc-class to that little bub-bingle. Take a gug-gug-good lead. Shultzie saw how you dud-dud-did it. He’ll drive you round.”