The runners had leaped at the crack of the bat. Touching second, the shortstop whipped the ball to Clancy. It came straight and true, and the man on first tried to get back, but too late. Three men had been retired, in less than twenty seconds from the time the ball was hit!
“Great Scott!” gasped Trayne, watching with bulging eyes. “It’s incredible!”
The crowd went mad with excitement. Such playing had rarely been seen on Fardale field since the time of Frank Merriwell, senior. The Fardale players had moved like clockwork, with such absolute precision that they had accomplished a triple play before they themselves realized the fact!
Small wonder that the fans went crazy as the team trotted in. The grand stand was in bedlam, screaming and shouting and stamping. The bleachers shrieked that the game was not lost yet, and implored Crockett to send Merry to bat.
Crockett did not lose his head in the excitement, however. He himself was up, and he was fairly confident of a hit. As he strode out to the plate, the uproar died away. After all, Franklin was three runs to the good, and the case for Fardale looked hopeless.
As it happened, Clancy, Billy Mac, and Chip would come to bat in the order named.
Crockett fell on the first ball for a clean safety, Clancy walked out and the Fardale followers greeted him with a storm of yells.
These died into a groan, as Clancy swung twice without result. Peters was a cool pitcher, and he tried to tease Clancy into a third strike, but in vain. With three balls, Clancy settled himself for a good one.
It came over—a sharp drop. Clancy chopped at it, and the ball went sizzling toward third. Instantly Crockett was speeding toward second, and managed to beat out the ball by an inch. Once more the crowd went wild with excitement.
“A hit, Billy Mac!”