“It’s your umpire. He isn’t giving us any show at all. You didn’t touch me with the ball and you know you didn’t!” “I did touch you.” “Go tell that to somebody that didn’t see it!” By this time the players of both nines were assembled near the third base, almost all of them shouting and gesticulating wildly. Dan remained in his position near the box, but he was the only member of the Rodman nine who had not run to join in the noisy altercation. Suddenly in the midst of the confusion the runner leaped to his feet and made a wild dash for the plate. As there was no one there to prevent him he easily crossed, and turning to the scorer shouted: “That’s a run for us! Don’t forget to set down that score for me. They can’t work that on us, not when we have our eyes open!” For a moment the confusion redoubled, the excited spectators rushing upon the diamond and adding their noisy claims or protests to the shouts of the rival players. Moulton now quietly approached the assembly, and pushing his way into the midst of the throng he said, “The runner was out.” “No, he wasn’t either!” roared the captain of the Benson nine. “Your man never touched him! He wasn’t out!” “Look here!” said Moulton advancing upon the speaker. “You asked me to umpire this game, didn’t you?” “I suppose so,” growled the captain, “but we don’t intend to be robbed――――” “No one intends to rob you of anything,” broke in Moulton in a low voice. “I saw the play. The man was out, that is all there is to it.” “No one else saw it,” growled the captain. “That may be true, but it doesn’t change matters. He was out. Now if you want to play ball go on with the game. If you’d rather spend your time wrangling like a lot of hoodlums, then that is your privilege. Either go on with the game and tell your men to play ball as gentlemen ought to play it or give it up and quit.” The angry captain glared at the umpire a moment, then turned sulkily to his companions and said: “Oh, well, come on, fellows! I suppose we’ll have to give in, but we’ve got to play the umpire as well as the Rodman nine.” “I guess it isn’t the umpire, it’s the pitcher that bothers those fellows,” said Walter to the third-baseman as the Benson players sulkily walked to their positions on the field. “Dan is doing great work!” His words were overheard by the Benson player who had been the cause of the interruption. Stopping abruptly, he glared at Walter a moment and then said: “I guess if the pitcher didn’t do any better than your short-stop does, it wouldn’t take long to wind up this game.” “Don’t say anything, Walter,” said Dan as he came to the side of his friend and quietly took his arm. “When a fellow is in the game he wants to work the muscles in his arms and legs and back, but there are some other muscles he doesn’t want to let get into the game at all.” “You mean the muscles of his tongue?” “Yes.” “I never dispute the umpire anyway,” said Walter, his face flushing slightly as he spoke.