Roar after roar came from the stand and the bleachers. The crowd was wild with delight. It was the sort of finish to fill them with unutterable joy. They waved their hats, hands, and handkerchiefs in the air. Men howled hoarsely; women added a shriller note to the volume of sound.
For the moment Sparks was the hero; but Wolfers was not forgotten. Down from the bleachers poured the spectators and out onto the field they streamed. They wanted to get near those two great heroes. They packed close about them. They even tried to lift and carry them, but neither man would have it.
“Stop your foolishness!” cried Wolfers sharply. “Didn’t you ever see a game won before?”
“This certainly is a red-hot baseball town!” laughed Sparks.
“It will be red hot after this. The game went just right to please the bunch.”
In all Elkton it seemed that just one inhabitant was downcast. Spud Bailey looked sick. He said not a word when Freckles jumped on him and punched him, crying jubilantly:
“Yah! yah! yah! What do you think about it now? Knew a lot, didn’t ye! Your great Frank Merriwell got his dat time! He jest did!”
Frank Merriwell waited for Gamp. Joe had his eyes on the ground as he came up. Merry took his arm, and they walked in together.
“Dud-don’t touch me!” said Gamp huskily. “I’m a lul-lobster!”
“You made a wonderful run for that ball, Joe,” said Merry. “I didn’t think you could get anywhere near it!”