The coacher yelled a warning at Kennedy, who suddenly realized that he could not make the sack. A moment later the crowd was filled with excitement, as the youngsters trapped Kennedy on the base line and attempted to run him down.
Again Tommy Tucker made a mess of it. He it was who fumbled a throw and gave Kennedy the chance to dash past him back to second base.
“Oh, I’m pretty good, I am!” said Tommy. “I’m playing for the Outlaws to-day. I’m afraid they won’t get a score, and I’m doing my best to help them along.”
The Outlaws scoffed and sneered at the youngsters.
His eyes gleaming viciously, Buzzsaw Stover walked to the plate, bat in hand.
“Hand one over, you young snipe,” he rasped at Dick, “and I’ll hit it a mile!”
He missed the first ball cleanly, with Merriwell smiling at him in an exasperating manner. The next one was wide, but, immediately following, Buzzsaw struck again.
Bat and ball met with a crack, and the sphere, shooting at Tommy Tucker, touched the ground once. The little chap took that hot one cleanly. Like a flash of light he snapped the ball to third for a force-out, and Lozier, making a beautiful throw, hummed it down to second for a double.
The spectators rose and shouted, while the Outlaws stared in wonderment. Stover could not find language to express his feelings.
“That’s the way to redeem yourself, Thomas,” laughed Dick, as he jogged toward the bench with Tucker at his side.