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Updated: June 20, 2025
He has to skip when he comes to number one on his right mitt. Says he can't get started to count, that way." "Some lucky it ain't his head," replied Williams. "His head? Bud would never miss that. But his pore little ole finger, layin' calm and cold back there. A very sad business, brethren." "I paid twelve sweaty plunks for her in Los and look at her!" cried Pars Long, doffing his sombrero.
Most of them thought that Jones had got the chilly mitt. Eleanor looked pale and undecided, not knowing what to make of Jones' death's-head face. She was resentful and pitying in turns, and I saw all the material lying around for a first-class conflagration. Freddy was a bit down on me, too, saying that a smoother method would have ironed out Jones, and that I had been headlong and silly.
It has to be, him layin' there, all hunched up on the floor, his gun so tight in his mitt that they had to pry the fingers off it!" "So you found the body?" He nodded and gulped. "I told all I knowed at the inquest," he said doggedly. "Tell it again," I commanded.
Everybody gave her the frosty mitt and they had to leave." Prentiss watched a smoke ring rise before he asked: "Why did they do that?" "So she wouldn't make the same mistake again." Toomey laughed, and added: "They took a 'fall' out of her every time they could after that.
Finally Miss Clegg withdrew her hand, straightened out the resultant wrinkles in her mitt, and stalked away. Mrs. Lathrop sighed sadly, returned to her own rocker, and entered upon the course of a long day of patient waiting. It was about three in the afternoon that, to her great surprise, she saw Miss Clegg returning.
"Come on, Mitt," came from O'Day, "burn a few hot ones over! Make him dizzy!" "Get back from the plate!" rasped Bender, as Barney took his position. "Get back, or you'll get hit!" "Hit him if he crowds," came from Holmes; "but don't kill him. You know you killed one man last year and broke another man's jaw." "Go ahead and hit him," came from Clover. "He's Irish, and you can't kill him."
Hooker, who had a ball of his own, turned away, and found Fred Sage, whose sole interest in the line of sports lay in football, and who, therefore, had taken no part in baseball after making a decided failure on one occasion when, the team being short, he had allowed himself to be coaxed into a uniform. "There's an extra mitt on the bench, Fred," said Roy.
And following this question, the mitt came sailing through the air, to land on the floor of the Brill carryall. "Please get off of my feet!" The wail came from William Philander Tubbs, who was sitting in a corner with another student partly on his lap. "Everybody shove, and we'll be off!" cried another student, merrily.
"Chust gif me the privilege of letting my arm limber me up, vill you?" "Go ahead," laughed Sparkfair. Hodge adjusted the body protector and pulled on the big catching mitt. "Keep open your eye for der curf uf der ball," warned Hans. "Uf I use too much speed for you, chust let me tell you so."
"Crack!" said Little Sure Shot, and the coin seemed to be struck from the unscathed hand. "Only nicked the aidge of it," said he, genially deprecating. "I don't like to take no chancet with the lad's mitt." It had indeed been a pretty display of sharpshooting and noiseless. "Had me nervous, you bet, first time he tried that," called Boogles. "Didn't know his work then. Thought sure he'd wing me."
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