Madison missed the first ball. The next one was wide, and he let it pass. The third was a drop, and he drove it far into the outfield.
Jolliby made a desperate run and a wonderful one-hand catch.
Knowing the ability of Fardale’s centre-fielder, Gibbs had stuck close by third. When the ball fell into Jolliby’s hands Gibbs scooted for the plate.
Chip made a magnificent throw into Buckhart’s hands, but failed to stop the score.
“Rah! rah! rah!” cheered the Franklin crowd.
“Well, brand me good and deep if this doesn’t beat anything I ever saw!” growled Buckhart, in deep disgust.
Dick advanced to the plate and the Texan met him in front of it.
“We’ve got to stop this hitting streak right away, Brad,” said the Fardale captain. “There’s something wrong.”
“Sure thing, pard,” nodded Buckhart; “but whatever it is I can’t make out.”
“The signs of the times are altogether too apparent!” shouted Cap’n Wiley.