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He thought about how he had licked Weary Reilley and become such a big cheese around Indiana, and well, he had turned out to be a different kind of a big cheese now. He walked down to Cannon’s confectionery store near State and bought an ice cream cone. He licked the ice cream with his tongue so that it would last longer. When he returned to the playground, Red Kelly, Davey Cohen and Paulie were there. Guys had always wondered what sort of a showing Studs would make in a scrap with the lads from Fifty-eighth and Prairie, but none of them had ever bothered Studs. As he walked across the playground toward them, he suddenly wondered if any of them, if Red, would start something now. He saw Davey Cohen talking to Red, and pointing to him. When he got up to them, Red asked him if he thought he was tough. He asked Red why. Red said he just wanted to know if Studs thought he was tough, because if he was, well, he, Red Kelly, would knock a little of it out of him. He and Red looked at each other. Red spat. Studs spat. Davey said put a stick on Studs’ shoulder. Davey picked up a stick, and handed it to Paulie. After hesitating, Paulie placed it on Studs’ shoulder. Red glowered at Studs. Studs made faces back. Red spat from the corner of his mouth. Red knocked the stick off and said that he didn’t even bury his dead; he let them lie. They fought. Studs gave Red a bloody nose, and Red showed a yellow streak and quit; he walked off and said he’d square matters later. Davey and Paulie sidled around Studs. They asked him why he never hung out with their gang.

“We have a swell time all the time, better than the St. Patrick’s guys from Indiana,” Paulie said.

“Hell, they’re all mopes,” Studs said.

“Yeh, well, then come on around with us,” Davey said. Studs said that he would.

Some young punks, Joe Coady and Denny Dennis, came around. Joe got the ball and bat from the instructor’s office, and they played move-up piggy.

Studs batted. Paulie pitched. He served one up to Studs. Studs leaned on it, and it went out to center field on the fly. Davey caught it.

Paulie batted, and Coady pitched. Studs went out to right field.

Coady twirled the ball.

Paulie didn’t hit it.

“Come on and pitch ‘em right,” said Paulie.

“I’m pitchin’ right. What’s a matter?” asked Coady.

“Pitch ‘em and cut it out,” Paulie said.

Studs told them to play and quit dynamitin’.

“Hey! Hey! Can the goofin’,” he added.

Coady twirled the ball, and Paulie sizzled one along the ground.

“Goddamn you! Pitch right!” Paulie snarled.

“I’m pitchin’ it all right. Can’t you hit it?” answered Coady.

“You ain’t. Come on, you Goddamn punk, or I’ll fling the bat at you!” Paulie said.

“You better not. He’s Tommy Doyle’s cousin,” young Dennis said.

“All right, punk. No one asked you tuh put your two cents in,” Paulie said to Dennis.

“Hey, can it!” Studs said.

Coady made an elaborate pitching gesture, and underhanded a floater straight over the pan. Paulie let it go by.

“Damn you, pitch right,” Paulie said.

Studs walked in and out. He picked up stones, and threw them aimlessly.

“I’m pitchin’ all right. Why don’t you hit it?” asked Coady.

“You lousy punk, pitch right!” Paulie said.

Coady twirled the next pitch, and Paulie lashed. hitting a mean, twisting foul by first base. Coady ran after it, and got his hands on the ball but muffed it.

“Come on, Joe! Let ‘im hit it,” Davey yelled.

“Pitch it right, you little bitch,” said Paulie.

Coady did, an easy floater, and Paulie popped a fly to Denny. He threw the bat at Coady, but Joe dodged and laughed. He moved toward him. Coady ran, Paulie wriggling his tomato after Joe. Joe was too swift for Haggerty.

“If I catch you, I’ll bust your neck,” yelled Paulie.

“Hey, cut it out.” Studs yelled.

“Aw, come on, you guys,” pleaded Denny.

Paulie kept shagging Coady. Joe would slow down until Paulie got near him, then he would dodge, twist and dart off, laughing at Paulie. Joe had won medals in grammar school track meets, and he was fast. He had Paulie puffing like a balloon, and Haggerty had to give it up. Joe laughed