The latter ducked and involuntarily raised his fist; then, ere Greer and some of the others stepped between, turned and walked away.
"That will do, Cloud," said Remsen in sharp, incisive tones.

"You may leave." And with a muttered word of anger Cloud strode from the field, passing through the silent and unsympathetic throng with pale face and black looks.
"First's ball down here," cried Greer, and play went on; but Joel had lost his taste for it, and when, a few minutes later, neither side having scored again, time was called, he trotted back to the gymnasium in a depressed mood.
"You did great work," exclaimed Outfield West, as he joined Joel on the river path.

"That settles Cloud's chances.

Remsen was laying for him anyhow, you know, and then that 'slugging!' Remsen hates dirty playing worse than anything, they say." "I'm sorry it happened, though," returned Joel.
"Pshaw! don't you be afraid of Cloud.

He's all bluster." "I'm not afraid of him.