It was a game in which the batter was put out while running the bases by being hit with the ball; hence the name.

The ball used was a comparatively soft one, yet hard enough to hurt when hurled by a powerful arm, as many of the old-timers as well as myself can testify.

It was a good exercise, however, for arms, legs and eyes, and many of the ball players who acquired fame in the early seventies can lay the fact that they did so to the experience and training that this rough game gave to them.
So disgusted did my father finally become with the progress of my education at Marshalltown that he determined upon sending me to the State University at Iowa City.

I was unable to pass the examination there the first time that I tried it, but later I succeeded and the old man fondly imagined that I was at last on the high road to wealth, at least so far as book-knowledge would carry me.
But, alas, for his hopes in that direction! I was not a whit better as a student at Iowa City than I had been at home.

I was as wild as a mustang and as tough as a pine knot, and the scrapes that I managed to get into were too numerous to mention.