Part 24 (1/2)

Joe was madly racing after the ball, which had gone away beyond him. He got it and hurled it to second for a relay home, as a quick glance had shown him the man rounding third.

Straight and true the ball went and the baseman had it. Then he sent it to Catcher Ferguson as the runner was racing in. Sam had run from his box and stood watching and expectant near home plate.

The runner dropped and slid and Bart Ferguson, as the ball landed in his mitt, reached over to touch him.

”Safe!” howled the umpire, and it meant the defeat of the Silver Stars.

For a moment there was silence and then Sam, stepping up to the umpire, a lad smaller than himself, said:

”Safe, eh? Not in a thousand years! You don't know how to umpire a game.

Safe! I guess not!” and drawing back his fist Sam sent it cras.h.i.+ng into the face of the other lad.

CHAPTER XIX

JOE IS WATCHED

There was an uproar in an instant. Players started for Sam and the unoffending lad whom he had struck. There were savage yells, calling for vengeance. Even Sam's mates, used as they were to his fits of temper, were not prepared for this. The Whizzer players were wild to get at him, but, instinctively Darrell, Joe, Rankin, and some of the others of the Silver Stars formed a protecting cordon about their pitcher.

”Are you crazy, Sam? What in the world did you do that for?” demanded the manager.

”He made a rank decision, an unfair one!” cried Sam, ”and when I called him down he was going to hit me. I got in ahead of him--that's all.”

”That's not so!” cried the Whizzer captain. ”I saw it all.”

”That's right!” chimed in some of his mates.

”Farson never raised his hand to him!” declared another lad, who had been standing near the umpire. ”You're a big coward to hit a chap smaller than you are!” he called tauntingly to Sam.

”Well, I'm not afraid to hit you!” cried the pitcher, who seemed to have lost control of himself. ”And if you want anything you know how to get it.”

”Yes, and I'm willing to take it right now,” yelled the other, stepping up to Sam.

There might have been another fight then and there, for both lads were unreasonable with anger, but Darrell quickly stepped in between them.

”Look here!” burst out the Stars' manager, in what he tried to make a good-natured and reasoning voice, ”this has got to stop. We didn't come here to fight, we came to play baseball and you trimmed us properly.”

”Then why don't you fellows take your medicine?” demanded the home captain. ”What right has he got to tackle our umpire?”

”No right at all,” admitted Darrell. ”Sam was in the wrong and he'll apologize. He probably thought the man was out.”

”And he _was_ out!” exploded the unreasonable pitcher. ”I'll not apologize, either.”

”Wipe up the field with 'em!” came in murmurs from the home players.

Several of the lads had grasped their bats.

It was a critical moment and Darrell felt it. He pulled Sam to one side and whispered rapidly and tensely in his ear:

”Sam, you've got to apologize, and you've got to admit that the runner was safe. There's no other way out of it.”