at first base, watching Dicky. Then he would curl his arms around his
head several times, and at last he would let the ball fly.

Marmaduke tried hard to hit it, but he just tipped it.

"Foul!" called the catcher.

And Marmaduke missed the next one and the next. He had only one chance
left now. And Fatty twisted himself up almost in knots, to make an
extra fine curve, I suppose, for Marmaduke's benefit. Six times he did
this before he let the ball go.

It came towards the home-plate and Marmaduke, as fast as an arrow. He
gritted his teeth, and gripped his hands tight around the bat, and hit
at that Rocket ball harder than he ever had in his life; and all the
time his ears were listening for the "crack!"

Of course, it all happened very quickly, more quickly than we can ever
tell about it in words, but--to make a long story short--he heard that
crack!

He had hit it! And away the Rocket ball flew towards the dead chestnut
tree, up, up, by the old crow's nest, and plop! right in the nest it
dropped.

And Dicky came racing home, and Marmaduke not far behind him, his face
red with excitement and his eyes shining.

And how the team cheered him now, and patted him on the back, and said
"Good boy, Mary!" again, and how happy he felt!