And, as a result, Briggs was pained and surprised to see his best curves being wasted. Ten of them in succession were knocked back of him by the determined Carter, and, in despair, Briggs began trying to tempt the Yale man with wide curves that would surely land in a fielder’s glove if Carter tried to hit them. From the bench Dick saw the change in Briggs’ plan, and changed his own. He signaled Carter to let such balls go by, and they swept into Bowen’s big mitt, to be called “Ball” by the umpire.
Briggs was furious, and in a moment Carter had his base on balls. All season, in such a situation, Yale players had at once tried to steal second. Carter dashed from the bag now but stopped short, ten feet from the base, and sped back, while the crowd laughed at Bowen’s futile throw to second. Briggs had thus wasted a ball on Caxton, the Yale center fielder, who followed Carter at the bat, and a big advantage had been gained.
Again Carter started from first with the swing of Briggs’ arm, and this time Bowen snapped the ball to first. But Carter had not stopped, and a mighty roar of laughter from the Yale crowd showed that the Harvard captain had been fooled completely, for Carter was safe at second. Thence, before the startled Harvard men could collect themselves, he dashed for third, and stole that base also without even a throw to head him off.
Caxton struck out, but Dick was satisfied. He felt that he could trust Brady for a long fly, at least, and he was right. The big catcher drove the ball far out to right field, and Carter, waiting for the catch, then sprinted home, and was safe at the plate in a cloud of dust, scoring the first run of the game.
After that, Briggs was invincible again. Dick’s best-laid plans to score another run in the next two innings were of no avail. The Harvard men saw through them and defeated them, and the ninth inning for Yale ended with the score still one to nothing. Harvard had one more chance to win the game, or to tie the score, at least, and it was up to Jim Phillips to hold the advantage his side had gained, slender as it was. If Harvard could not score, that one Yale run was as good as twenty.
Farquar, Harvard’s most dangerous batter, was the first man up. Jim had handled him well so far, and had struck him out twice, but Farquar was a scientific and skillful batter and he had studied Jim so that to deceive him was nearly impossible. He chose his time well, and, shortening his bat, drove Jim’s third ball straight down the right-field foul line and past Sherman, for two bases. It was the only clean hit made off Jim in the whole game, but it was a dangerous one, indeed. Farquar was a fast runner, and if the men who followed him did anything at all, there was a good chance for him to score. His fine play won him salvos of applause from the Harvard crowd, but Jim braced himself, with a smile for Brady, and settled down to work.
Jim was very willing for Renshaw, who followed Farquar, to hit the ball. It would mean a chance to throw Farquar out at third. Renshaw tapped the ball toward short and Morgan ran in to field it. Farquar raced toward third, and the umpire on the bases, trying to get out of the runner’s way without interfering with the fielder, did a thing that seemed fatal to Yale’s chances. By pure accident, he got in the way of the ball, and it struck his foot, bounding away from Morgan. Under the rules it was a safe hit, and Farquar was privileged to go to third.
That was hard luck for Jim Phillips. Through no fault of his own, Yale’s position had become desperate. Renshaw stole second at once, and Brady dared not throw to cut him off, lest Farquar seize the chance to come home.
But Jim held his nerve. He struck out the next batter easily, and then, knowing that Bowen, who followed, was almost sure to hit the ball, even if not safely, went in to consult Brady.
“We can get them, if you’re game to take a big chance,” said Jim, under his breath. “Listen!”