Ready remained on first. When Morgan pitched the next time Jack loafed down from first, purposely permitting himself to be cornered between the bases. Then Ready played back and forth, getting up as much excitement as possible.
In the midst of this excitement Dick Merriwell dashed for home. Packard had the ball, and he threw home to stop the run. The boy, however, was running like a streak, and he shot forward in a long, clean slide.
The ball reached Mulloy a moment too late, and Dick was safe at the plate, having stolen home with the winning run.
Then there was an uproar, for the Yale men came pouring upon the field, Inza and Elsie with them, while Old Joe walked out and put his arms round the lad who had won his own game in the ninth.
“You heap much like Steady Hand!” exclaimed the redskin. “Um two make heap hot stuff! Whoop!”
Inza burned up and grasped both of Dick’s hands.
“Splendid!” she laughed. “You are a Merriwell!”
Elsie impulsively threw her arms round Dick, and kissed him. Then she started back, her face crimson; but it could be no more crimson than was that of the boy, who looked from Inza to Elsie, unable to speak for a moment.
At last he said:
“Thank you! I am sure I could do better next time if I knew you were watching.”