Merriwell picked out a good one and slammed it into the far extremity of centre field, sending Hoboson home and reaching third ere the ball was returned to the diamond. Some of the island spectators groaned as they saw Jolliby walk out to the plate. Not a hit had Chip made, and they feared what would happen now.
Chip hit the ball, but popped up a little fly to Torrey and was out. Tubbs lifted a foul a moment later, and Brodie caught it.
“That’s the way ter do it!” cried Swarton. “Here’s your next victim, Kennedy!”
It was Smart.
Fearing Smart would strike out, Dick edged off third and made a desperate dash for the plate as Brodie returned the ball to Kennedy after the first pitch.
Kennedy snapped the ball back to Brodie, who threw a little high, and Merriwell slid under safely, thus securing the run that put Fairhaven ahead. No wonder Brick McLane quite lost his voice from shouting. No wonder the islanders shrieked, and yelled, and waved the red and black.
“Got um now, pal!” said Hoboson, in satisfaction. “Let this feller strike out if he wants to. We’ll hold ’em down.”
Smart did strike out, but Fairhaven was one run ahead when Rockford went to bat for the last time.
Merriwell trusted fully to the tramp’s skill as a back-stop, and his speed and curves actually dazzled the batters. He retired them in one-two-three order, and Brick McLane fell off the bleachers as the third man struck out and he realized Fairhaven had taken the game.
“Pretty well done, wasn’t it, Dick?” said Hoboson, as he cast aside his battered old hat and seemed instantly to fling off a false wig at the same time. “Glad to get rid of those things. They are beastly hot.”