outstretched hands. My! how that Rocket ball stung and burned! But he
hung on for dear life.

"Butterfingers!" he heard Fatty call to "rattle" him. And that settled
the matter, for, if he hadn't heard that word, he might have dropped
the ball after all, but he was so determined to make Fatty take it all
back that he made his fingers tight as a vise around the ball--and it
stayed--it stayed there!

[Illustration: "He formed his hands in the shape of a cup and
waited."]

When he came in to take his turn at bat, Dicky patted him on the
shoulder.

"Good boy, Mary!" he said, and Outfielder Green felt as pleased and
proud as before he had been ashamed. But he felt even happier a little
later.

It was the last half of the last inning. Reddy and Skinny each made
one run and Dicky made two, and now the score stood thirty-six to
thirty-five. Fatty's team was only one run ahead, and Dicky was on
first with Marmaduke at the bat.

Now was Marmaduke's chance to win the game--the chance of a lifetime!

Fatty twirled the ball in his hand. Though he was fat, he could pitch
like a regular pitcher. At least his motions were just as funny. He
would curl up his fingers in a strange way to make what he called a
curve. Then he would hold the ball up to his chin and look wisely over