Then Frank ran at his best speed. He knew it would be close, and he flung himself forward for a slide at second, which enabled him to reach the base safely a moment ahead of the ball. By fast running, he had made a two-bagger out of an ordinary single.
Everybody knew now that Merriwell’s team was out for the game in that inning if there was any possible way to capture it. Such work turned the fans into howling maniacs.
For once in his life, Jack Ready looked grave when he took his place to strike. He realized the responsibility on him, and it had driven the smile from his ruddy face.
Park was pitching at his best, and he did not let up a bit. Ready made two fouls, after which he put up a high infield fly, which dropped and remained in the hands of Croaker. Two men were out, and the admirers of the home team began to breathe easier.
Merriwell was taking all the start he could get from second when Carson got ready to hit.
Park seemed to feel absolutely sure of retiring the side without further trouble, and he did get two strikes on Berlin. Then something happened, for the cattleman’s son did a thing to delight the heart of his father. He made a beautiful safe hit to right field and won the game.
Merriwell was running when the ball and bat met. He knew it was not a high fly, and instinct told him the fielder could not catch it. As he came toward third, Hodge was on the coaching-line, madly motioning for him to go in.
Frank obeyed. The fielder threw from right to cut him off at the plate, but, by another splendid slide, he scored.
The game was over.