Dick was playing ten or twelve feet into the diamond. He made an electrified leap, shot out his right hand, and pulled the liner down. The moment his feet touched the ground he was ready to throw to second, but he made sure that Claxton would get the ball. The runner on second had started for third, but he stopped and nearly broke himself in two in an effort to get back.
He was a second too late, and the double play put something of a dampener on Tufts’ elation.
Kates heaved a great sigh of relief, and something like a sickly smile of joy passed over his face.
This was what he needed to put him once more at his best, for he struck out the man who followed.
CHAPTER II.
A HEART-BREAKING FINISH.
But Kates’ troubles were not over. Yale did nothing with the Tufts twirler in the eighth, and Tufts opened the ninth with another two-sack bingle that made the Yale crowd feel sick.
Some one yelled for Merriwell. Kates again cast a questioning glance toward Dick.
“If we pull him out,” Dick thought, “he’ll have no further backbone for pitching.”
Jones started in from the field. Divining the intention of Blessed, Dick hurriedly waved him back.
Buckhart looked disgusted, and shook his head.