The ball was driven on a line between short and second, and Harry raced down to first. If he had been contented with that, all would have been well; but he tried to stretch a single into a two-bagger, and O’Grady, the left-fielder, who had secured the ball, threw to second.
When it was too late, Harry saw he could not reach second, and he tried to turn back. Then he was caught between bases.
“That’s what loses the game!” groaned Hodge, as he saw the opposing players get on the base-line to run Rattleton down.
Rattleton did his best to escape, while the players skilfully forced him back toward first, and then pinned him so that he could not dodge them. He was tagged with the ball, and the second man was out.
The crowd was delighted. They had expected a hot game, and they were getting their money’s worth.
Frank’s team had been well advertised in Omaha, the papers telling of its successful career through the Rocky Mountain region. Thus far not a single defeat had been chalked against the Merries; but now it began to seem that the long string of victories would be broken.
“La! la!” sighed Jack Ready. “How foolish it is for a man to try to do more than he is capable of accomplishing!”
Then he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye as Rattleton, looking very cheap and disgusted, came in to the bench.
“Somebody please kick me!” mumbled Harry.