But the score was now four to two. Jones urged his men to get after Hogan without delay, and they responded in a promising manner. In a sharp batting rally, they drove in a score, but a fancy double play cut short their chances of tying or taking the lead.
Manhattan abated none of its fierceness when the ninth opened. The first batter landed on Kates for a safe single. Following this, came a fierce drive that got away from Tucker, and two men were on bases.
A moment later Sam hit a batter on the hip, and the sacks were filled.
Marone coached jubilantly, announcing his belief that something like a dozen runs would be chalked down to Manhattan’s credit in the ninth.
It was the critical point of the game, and Kates got the rattles at last. Try as he might, he could not find the plate, and, as a result, he walked the next batter, forcing in a run.
“It’s all off,” announced Bill Toleman, to his companions in the stand. “He couldn’t find the rubber now to save his life.”
Dagett seized Toleman’s wrist.
“Look!” he said. “What’s that mean?”
“What?”
“Merriwell——”