“Be ye?” retorted Silas, his round face shining under the heat and his excitement. “If ye keep up as ye’ve begun, it’ll look like the ‘dose’ was somethin’ prepared special for Benson. Ye haven’t got a man t’ first base yet.” “Just wait, Si――――” “I am a-waitin’,” interrupted the harness-maker. “An’ so be you, I guess. Doesn’t seem t’ be doin’ ye much good, though.” “You haven’t got but two runs.” “That’s jes’ two more’n you’ve got.” “Wait till this inning is over.” “All right. I’m pretty good at waitin’. If you get a fellow as far as third I’ll give ye a new saddle.” “The saddle is mine. I’ll stop for it on my way back t’ Benson.” “An’ keep up th’ same waitin’ ye’ve been havin’, I guess.” “Dan,” said Walter, as the two boys a few minutes later together walked out to the field, “the keenness of Si’s wit is almost too much for me. I don’t know but I’d better go out under the shade of that maple yonder and rest up.” The young pitcher, however, neither responded nor acted as if he saw anything unusual in the boasting of the harness-maker. In a brief time the game was resumed. Again the first batter to face Dan struck out. The second was hit with the ball, and a wild yell arose from the boy with a pitchfork, who was still standing near third base. “Now run, Zeb!” he shouted to the player, who was on first base ruefully rubbing his shoulder. “Never mind a little thing like that! ’Twon’t hurt long! I’ll risk ye! If ye get around home I’ll let ye ride back t’ Benson on my new saddle.” Dan at that moment threw swiftly to his first-baseman, but the runner, who perhaps was thinking more of his bruised shoulder than of the game, unfortunately was directly in the way of the ball and was again hit by the swiftly thrown sphere. Leaping to his feet with a yell, he shook his fist at the pitcher and shouted, “Do that again an’ I’ll knock yer head off!” Instantly Dan threw the ball, which had been returned to him, and the baseman touched the excited runner, who had incautiously advanced a yard or more toward the pitcher. “You’re out,” said Moulton quietly as the man was touched before he could regain the base. “I hain’t neither!” roared the angry player as he advanced threateningly toward the umpire. Ignoring the protest, the umpire motioned to Dan to resume his work and the young pitcher instantly threw the ball. “Strike!” called Moulton promptly. “Look here, you!” said the angry player that had been declared out at first. He had approached the umpire and wrathfully was facing him. “Do you know what I’d give you for two cents?” “Get off the field,” said Moulton quietly, scarcely glancing at him. “I won’t get off! I tell ye I wa’n’t out at first. No, sir! That fellow stood right in my way.” “I told you to get off the field,” said Moulton again in a low voice. “Mebbe you’ll put me off.”