Bully on the slab finally sending him back to the bench by the whiff route, to the loud acclaim of the admiring Bancrofters on the bleachers.
"They'll never locate you to-day, Jock," shouted one of these. "Show up their southpaw wizard. Make a record."
Reddy Crandall proved to be quite as easy as his predecessors, and Hoover finished his first turn with the third straight strike-out, not even seeming to hear the wild applause of his admirers as he sauntered, sour and unsmiling, to the bench.
More than one of those admirers, even while fulsome with praise, had sometimes felt a strong desire to kick the ungrateful, egotistical, pugnacious star slabman of the champions, who, among his browbeating teammates, even, was not much courted for his society off the field.
Riley, the only person who never praised or flattered him, had discovered some secret process of holding him in check and making him of inestimable value to the team.
"Now, you fellers," growled the Bancroft manager, speaking with the cigar between his teeth, "I want ye t' go after this left-handed dub, and chaw him up. Put the willer to him, and break his heart. You had him almost out when
