Harvard was batting first, and in the ninth inning began a determined effort to increase its narrow lead. Bowen was afraid of the margin, and called on his men to try hard for at least another run.
Winston was tired. He had to pitch hard to hold the crimson team down, and Bowen was quick to notice the signs of his distress. In two minutes the game changed again from one of extraordinary closeness to the semblance of a Yale rout. Two hits and a base on balls filled the bases, and not a man was out. Then, suddenly, as Winston, tired out, but game to the end, prepared to pitch to Bowen himself, who was determined to clinch his team’s victory, there was a wild roar from the Yale crowd. Dick Merriwell had suddenly appeared at the bench and waved the battery to him. Thunders of applause drifted up to the skies from the packed stands, for Gray and Taylor, eager and ready to do their best, had appeared, and took their places in the field.
No one asked for an explanation of Gray’s absence or of his sudden reappearance. It was enough that he was there. Foote and Parker, seemingly as enthusiastic as any of their fellow students, were the ones most amazed by the sight of Gray, but they could say nothing without betraying themselves. And Gray, while Foote, trembling, wondered how his plan could have miscarried, proceeded to accomplish a baseball feat that put him almost on a level with Jim Phillips himself. For, without seeming effort, he struck out the next three Harvard batters, and, amid a roar of cheering such as Yale Field had never heard before, left the three runners stranded high and dry on the bases.
But Harvard was still a run ahead, and, try as they would, the Yale players could not tie the score. Gray’s brilliant feat was all in vain, and Harvard’s victory left the series tied, with another game needed to decide the championship.
CHAPTER XIX
HOW THE PLOT WAS FOILED.
It was in Dick Merriwell’s rooms that night that Jim and Bill Brady learned the story of what had happened that afternoon. They heard from the universal coach of Canfield’s belated discovery of the blank examination paper marked with Gray’s name. The professor, it was explained, had reported all the men in the course as having passed without having marked a single paper, and Gray had, therefore, received his diploma. But later, when Canfield had gone over the books that contained the answers to his questions, he had discovered the blank pages in Gray’s, and had been furious. He told the dean that he regarded the thing as a personal insult to himself, and had demanded instant action. The dean had had no other course than to yield to the request, and had hastily summoned Gray, at the same time sending word to Dick Merriwell.
Gray had been unable to deny that the writing on the cover of the book was his. But he insisted that he had answered every question, although he could not say how nearly correct his answers had been. The evidence was all against him, however, and it had seemed to be convincing. Certainly the book contained nothing but blank pages now.
It was Dick Merriwell who had made the astonishing, but simple, discovery that had offered a solution. Examining the book closely, he suddenly pointed out to the dean that the cover had been changed. It was a simple exercise book that was used, with blue paper covers, and Dick showed that there were marks on the inside pages of other staples that had been torn out.
“Canfield said that no one could have meddled with the books,” said the universal coach then, as he went on with his explanation, “and suggested that we ought to find the pages that had been torn out. He said that the books had all been put in his room in Dwight Hall, and that the place had been locked up as soon as he left it yesterday afternoon, and not opened again until this morning. But I was able to prove that some one had tampered with the book, because of one thing he had overlooked. He hadn’t washed his hands.”