Bimm had not been warned, and he had made no effort to slide. Bart stepped off instantly and met him, tagging him with the ball.
There was silence—then another roar. This time the Merriwell admirers shouted.
“What’s this?” gasped Cap’n Wiley, looking round in amazement. “Who threw in that ball?”
The umpire declared Bimm out.
Wiley saw that Badger had thrown the ball, and his head dropped.
“Alas!” he muttered; “thus my fondest hopes vanish one by one. It has been thus ever since the days of my innocent boyhood on Nigger Island.”
Mike Grafter smote Bob Gowan on the shoulder and yelled with delight, while Gowan seemed ready to collapse in a heap.
“Ha! ha! ha!” roared Grafter. “Ho! ho! ho! The wind changed suddenly, Bob. It’s different now. They’re all out. It’s over, my boy. They won’t have another chance like that. The game is just the same as finished.”
“I dunno but you’re right,” admitted Gowan weakly. “That was awful! I’ll never recover from it.”