But somehow the fellow had stretched up his head and he turned his face for a look as he went over third without checking his speed.
The ball was in the air on the way to the second-baseman.
Then the witnesses saw a streak of boots and humanity going in to the plate from third. It seemed that all the condensed energy of the man was put into the effort to reach the plate ahead of the ball.
“See him go!” yelled the crowd.
The pitcher’s stammering friend was standing on the bleachers, waving his hat and howling like a wild man. In fact, it had been a cry from him that caused the runner to take such desperate chances instead of obeying the coacher at third.
The crowd roared and gasped and grew silent.
The second-baseman took the ball, whirled like a flash, and lined it to the plate. The catcher was there to receive it and stop the run.
The throw was shoulder-high, and the runner suddenly threw himself headlong for a slide. Never in the history of the great national game had there been such a beautiful slide on that ground. The fellow seemed to scoot over the ground, and he was resting with his hand on the plate when the catcher bored the ball between his shoulders.
“Safe!” declared the umpire.