of convex and concave glasses that twisted them into all sorts of laughable exaggerations.
They lingered here for a while in great glee, then proceeded farther to stop eventually in front of a booth where quite a crowd was collected. The grinning and woolly head of a huge negro was stuck through canvas on the other side of the counter and the knot of people was being urged to hurl baseballs at the senegambian and win cigars. The baseball angle of this appealed to Harold at once. He yielded his tag for a punch and received six baseballs. He stood off from the counter and took careful aim at his human target. Then he wound up in the style that he had copied from Waite Hoyt, Walter Johnson and other stars of the diamond. His arm came around with a wide sweep and suddenly stopped in something soft and yielding. At the same time there was a loud grunt and an exclamation of pain. Harold looked around to find that he had stuck ball and hand in the stomach of a very fat man among the spectators.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he stammered, putting a supporting arm around his victim, who seemed about to collapse.
"Why don't you look what you're doing when you try that fancy wind-up? Go out in the ball park and do that," gasped the fat man.
"Oh, don't you be such a crab, Keep your eyes open and you won't get hurt," Jane cut in spiritedly. She turned to Speedy, "Don't mind him, Harold. Go ahead."
The tart rebuke of the girl strangely enough
