After that, a hit and an error filled the bases. Then Walbert went “up in a balloon,” for he could not find the plate, and he forced two runs.
Haggerty had been warmed up before the game began, and now Frank lost no more time in taking Walbert out and putting the little Williams man in his place.
“What’s that mean, anyway?” growled one of the Yale rooters. “Why doesn’t Merriwell go in? Is he too lazy?”
“He doesn’t dare!” declared Pooler. “He knows Princeton is out for blood, and he doesn’t want to pitch a losing game.”
“I don’t believe that!” cried Charlie Creighton. “I don’t believe Frank Merriwell is a coward.”
“Well, you won’t see him pitch to-day, if he can help it.”
Haggerty flung his cap on the ground by his side, held the ball up before him with both hands, suddenly jerked it toward him, humped his back in a queer manner, and sent it whistling over the plate.
The batter lined it out. The first ball the little fellow pitched had been met squarely and sent flying toward left field.
The man on third held the bag and watched Joe Costigan get under the ball. Costigan did get under it, waited for it and dropped it!
Then the man on third came scudding home, while the others moved up a bag each, and again the bases were full.