“Reckon my pard wants to throw this game away,” he muttered to himself. “We’ll lose it if we let Kates stay on the rubber.”
But Kates stayed. Aware that Dick still had confidence in him, Sam forced the following Tufts man to put up an easy infield fly, which was captured by Tucker.
“All we want is a clean hit, Stroud!” cried a Tufts coacher. “You’re the boy to do it!”
Stroud was a dangerous man with the stick, and the spectators hung poised on a point of painful suspense.
Four times Stroud fouled. Then Sam twisted one round his neck, and he missed cleanly.
“That’s the way! that’s the way!” laughed Dick. “Now it’s all right! That lively lad will pass away on second.”
With two strikes and only one ball called by the umpire, it began to seem as if Kates would mow down the last Tufts batter. But the fellow picked out a corner-cutter and raised it far into left field.
“All over!” shouted some one. “Jonesy has it.”
Jonesy thought he had it, but as the ball settled it took one of those exasperating curves which are troublesome to handle, and Blessed merely touched it with the fingers of one upthrust hand.
Before the dismayed Yale captain could get the ball back into the diamond the score was tied, and Tufts had another runner on third.