"And poke holes in the sky with raps for home runs," added another.
"And strike out three men every inning!" cried a third. "Dave, how is our pitcher to-day?"
"Able to sit up and eat pie," answered Dave, with a smile.
"Talking about pitchers puts me in mind of a little story I heard yesterday" began Shadow. "A little girl"
"Hello, Shadow has hit the story trail once more!" sang out Phil. "Thought there must be something wrong with him. He hasn't told a story for an hour and ten minutes."
"He's thinking of all the outs he is going to make," put in Plum, slyly.
"Not an out for yours truly," returned the story-teller. "But to get back to the little girl. Says she to her papa, 'Papa, did you say a baseball club has a pitcher?' 'Yes, my dear,' says papa. 'Well, do they have a sugar-bowl too?'" And at this anecdote the boys smiled.
Jackson Lemond was driving the carryall. He had a team of horses which the doctor had purchased only a few weeks before. They were a mettlesome pair, and the Hall driver did not altogether understand them. At times they went along very well, but at others they "cut up simply awful," to use Horsehair's way of expressing it.
"Why don't you let the team out, Horsehair?"
