“Two men out, run on anything!” shouted Watson at the side-lines. The Harvard catcher pretended a passed ball, and ran back a few feet, but Watson saw the trick and kept Phil on the base. Hayes had two strikes and three balls called on him. The crowd waited eagerly for the next pitch.
“Four balls!” Hayes sped away to first, Manning snarled and stamped, the crowd yelled. Tompkins came up bat in hand, with a determined look on his face. “One ball!” The catcher threw to third, but Phil, who was watching the ball as a cat watches the low flight of a bird, flung himself back in safety. The Harvard third, pretending to throw to first, let drive at second. Sands scrambled back as best he could, but the ball reached the base before he did, and only the error of the second baseman, who seemed as much surprised as Sands, saved the latter from an out.
Tompkins, who knew he was no batter, was waiting. “Two balls!” “One strike!” The next one tempted him and he hit at it, but it was a wide out curve. “Two strikes!” Then came an in curve, sweeping in over the corner of the plate. Tommy did not want to try it at all, but he knew that if he did not, he should go out on called strikes; so he smote at it with all his strength, and was as much surprised as Manning, though by no means so unpleasantly, to see the ball go flying over the third baseman’s head.
Phil came trotting in, followed closely by Sands, while Hayes paused at third. And then Tompkins, having glorified himself and brought in two runners by a two-base hit, ventured too far off second, and was ignominiously put out on a quick throw from the pitcher.
In their half of the inning, the Harvard men tried hard to retrieve themselves. The first man up went out on strikes. Big Gerold then proceeded to pound the ball to the left-field fence. Phil got it back in season to hold the man on third, but the next man brought in the run with a single. Then followed two easy in-field flies, and the game was over with the score five to three in favor of Seaton.
The students went home elated. Tompkins had held the heavy batters down to a few hits, the nine had fielded well and had hit the ball when hits were all-important. The forecast for the Hillbury game seemed at least fair.
“Well, what do you think now?” said the coach to Sands, as they walked slowly over to the dressing rooms.
“About the game? Why, it was a good one; the best yet, I think.”
“No, about Poole. Isn’t he a better man than Taylor?”
“I wish I knew,” replied Sands. “He certainly batted well to-day. I doubt if we should have done as well with Taylor. He caught three flies too, but two of those came into his hands.”