There was another groan from the spectators.
“It’s all over!” shouted Hunston. “We’ve taken a scalp, boys!”
“Not yet!” grated Brad Buckhart, as he picked out his pet bat and strode toward the plate. “I opine I’ll try to put up some sort of an argument with you.”
Bretton was confident now—in fact, he was too confident. Feeling sure he had the game in his hands, he gave the Texan a swift one over the outside corner.
It was just where Brad wanted it, and he lashed out a beautiful single.
An instant later there was a fearful uproar on the field, for Dick Merriwell was seen advancing toward the plate. The stonecutters thundered their applause, while bats, handkerchiefs, and flags waved everywhere.
“Enough to rattle any batter,” muttered Benton Hammerswell.
The pitcher waited until the shouting crowd became quieter. Then he put over a swift inshoot, which Dick missed.
“One strike!” cried the umpire.
“Get him, Bretton—get him!” cried Hunston.