the trouble. After throwing it in, Durant came up to the ball-players. Bell, with his spirit roused, was determined now to strike Edward out; he had pitched two wild balls in the effort when Durant interrupted.
“Crashaw,” he called, “you’ve not quit rowing for baseball, have you?”
“Oh no,” said Edward. “I’m just fooling.”
“Well, look here a moment.” Durant hastened forward. “I think you’d better not do this sort of thing. You must n’t risk getting hit and maybe hurt.”
“There’s not much danger.”
“I know, but you might get a crack on the arm or the wrist or the head that would spoil your rowing for a while. I wish you would n’t.”
“All right.” Edward relinquished the bat to Keating. “There, you see the principle of the thing, Keat; step right out at the ball and meet it with your whole body in the blow; don’t just swipe at it with your arms.”
“What are you doing? Coaching him?” asked Durant curiously.
“Yes—trying to.”
