(I improved it by returning the kick to Mr. Dowden. He made no
acknowledgment of its reception other than to sink his chin a little
deeper into the collar of his ulster.)

"By the Almighty!" said Simeon Peck, hoarsely. "Who--WHAT was Dave
Beasley talkin' to? There wasn't nobody THERE!"

"Git out," Grist bade him; but his tone was perturbed. "He seen that
reporter. He was givin' us the laugh."

"He's crazy!" exclaimed Peck, vehemently.

Immediately all four members of his party began to talk at the same
time: Mr. Schulmeyer agreeing with Grist, and Mr. Cullop holding with
Peck that Beasley had surely become insane; while the "Journal" man,
returning, was certain that he had not been seen. Argument became a
wrangle; excitement over the remarkable scene we had witnessed, and,
perhaps, a certain sharpness partially engendered by the risk of
freezing, led to some bitterness. High words were flung upon the wind.
Eventually, Simeon Peck got the floor to himself for a moment.

"See here, boys, there's no use gittin' mad amongs' ourselves," he
vociferated. "One thing we're all agreed on: nobody here never seen no
such a dam peculiar performance as WE jest seen in their whole lives
before. THURfore, ball or NO ball, there's somep'n' mighty wrong about
this business. Ain't that so?"

They said it was.