Page:Hugh Pendexter--Tiberius Smith.djvu/241

 the old Red Stockings when the score was one hundred and ninety to one hundred and forty. Close game, I tell you.' "‘The batter out there can cart away all the straight balls any one can dish up to him,' I reminded, sadly.

"‘But not curves,' grinned Tib.

"‘You curve?' I murmured.

"‘I do, my child,' he affirmed. 'Two years ago I wished to create a Ten Thousand Dollar Beauty's part in a little baseball drama I was to star in, and I played with a village nine all through the summer, just to get the atmosphere. And do you know, little one, I got onto the knack of tossing up grape-vines in a way that would make Cy Young look like a last year's rose-leaf. Now you stay here and watch me capture the cup.'

"Before the guards knew his intention he had picked up the skull and was out of the hut and walking gravely towards the old chief. The guards didn't like to leave me, and as Tib was moving towards the crowd they contented themselves with a college yell of warning. When Tib walked up to the chief, and, placing the skull down for the home base and pushing His Ivories into proper position, motioned for him to stand ready to strike the ball, the old boy was stunned.

"But he came to after a bit and howled and bang-