This was exactly what Conway had been wishing for, and he hit the ball hard and fair. Out over the infield on a line it sped, somewhat to the right of centre field. Had it been a high fly Jolliby might have secured it. Being a liner, Chip could not get to it, and it went bounding past him. He raced after it, while Roberts came home and Conway went to second.
Conway, like Darrell, fancied he saw an opportunity to stretch the hit into a three-bagger. In fact, he fancied there was a bare possibility he might reach home on it. With this thought in his mind, he passed over second and kept on toward third.
Jolliby caught up the ball and whirled swiftly toward the diamond. He saw that the runner was making for third. To the spectators it did not seem that Conway could be prevented from reaching that bag.
Then Chip made one of those famous throws of his. Without losing a moment of time, he sent the ball on a line from his position far out into the field straight to third base. An ordinary thrower would have thrown it in to Tubbs, who was the nearest infielder. Had this been done, Conway must have reached third in safety, but the ball came straight into the hands of Bradley, who caught it about a foot from the ground and quickly put it onto Conway, who had made a slide, under orders from the coacher.
“Out at third!” declared the umpire.
A shout of joy arose from the little knot of Fardale boys.
The score was tied at the end of the first inning, each side having obtained a tally.
“You see, some one else can make the same kind of a mistake, Merriwell,” said Darrell, as he walked in to the bench. “I haven’t heard Roberts kicking at Conway.”
“No one is kicking at you, Darrell,” replied Dick quietly. “It’s all right. You were doing your best, and that’s all any fellow can do.”
Still Hal did not seem satisfied. In truth, strange though it is, he might have been better satisfied had Dick condemned his carelessness in getting put out in the first inning.