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Updated: May 14, 2025
Abe Bunderson, nicknamed "Balloon," was the next man to strike. Ere he left the bench, Hodge whispered in his ear: "Bunt, my boy. You know what Joe Crowfoot can do throwing. Higgins can't steal. Sacrifice him to second." Balloon nodded. He obeyed instructions, bunting rather awkwardly, yet skillfully, and sacrificing himself at first, while Higgins took second. "Hodge next!" called the scorer.
There was a rush of black-clad girls, with resplendent violet "F's" ornamenting their breasts, another volley of cheers from the audience, then a shrill blast from the referee's whistle rent the air, the teams dropped into their places, the umpire, time-keeper and scorer took their stations, and a tense silence settled over the audience. The referee balanced the ball.
Now and then, of course, the grim scorer nods during the game and a fault goes unpenalized, but as a rule it can be said that a man who can become an ace may well be called a faultless flyer, for an ace is one who has rolled up a score of five victories against those whose skill was less than his own.
After the wicket had been described by experts in hushed whispers as looking pretty good, the bell rang, and all who were not playing for the team, with the exception of the lucky individual who had obtained for himself the post of scorer, strolled back towards the blocks.
No one can have any doubt about the sort of persons whom the vast majority of young people, and some older people too, delight to honour. With some it is the star of the music hall or opera. With a great many more it is the winner of a race, or the champion player in a successful football team, or the most effective bowler, or the highest scorer in cricket. The crowd goes mad about these heroes.
Scorer, by the gentleman in whose practice the cases of puerperal fever occurred. His name renders it unnecessary to refer more particularly to these gentlemen, who on their part have manifested the most perfect freedom and courtesy in affording these accounts of their painful experience. "January 28, 1843. II. . . . "The time to which you allude was in 1830.
He thought it the most delicious smell in the world; and so continued to think it for many years until the nitros displaced the old-fashioned compounds. Four times Mr. Newmark repeated his initial performance; then stepped aside. "Heinzman to shoot; Wellman on deck!" announced the scorer. Mr. Heinzman was already at the mark; and young Wellman arose and began to break open a box of shells. Mr.
In which case the latter would win on the first innings. And this thought was as gall to him. He walked out and addressed the rival captain. "I think," said he, "we will close our innings." Tom and Dick made two bee-lines for the scorer and waited palpitatingly for the verdict. "What's my score?" panted Tom. "Fifty-fower, sur." "And mine?" gasped Dick. "Fifty-fower, too, sur."
"If the young man is interfered with this time, I shall award the prize to him and end the tournament," warned the scorer. Though Tad's eyes were smarting from the blow of the sombrero, he allowed the eyelids to droop well over them, thus protecting them from the dust and at the same time giving him a clearer vision.
He pulled his pony to a quick stop and sat rubbing and blinking his smarting eyes. A howl of disapproval went up from the spectators. None seemed to know whether the act had been inspired by enthusiasm or malice. Tad was convinced that it was the latter. His face was flushed, but the lad made no comment. "You are entitled to another tilt," called the scorer. To this the Mexican objected loudly.
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