It was now up to Tom Grace, the captain of the Great Northern, and the look on this man’s face indicated he meant business. Chester was smiling as Grace took his position to hit.
“Having a good time, my boy?” inquired the batter.
“Splendid!” retorted Arlington.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I hope you don’t meet with any disappointment.”
“Don’t worry about me,” advised Chet, as he whistled in a high ball.
“Get ’em down, kid! Get ’em down!” cried Grace. “You have got to do it or furnish me with a stepladder! I am only five feet ten, and I can’t reach that high!”
When Arlington tried a slow drop, Grace stepped forward to the limit of his box and picked it up with a sweep of the bat that drove it over the infield and out between Black and Jolliby, neither of whom could catch it.
O’Rouke scored and Hardy followed him to the plate, making the third run of the inning without a man retired.
No wonder the smile faded from Arlington’s face.
By this time Hector Marsh was convulsed with delight, although he was trying to conceal the fact.