Buster did try a bunt, and missed. And then he tried to hit it out and missed. And after that he tried waiting—and missed. And, when he was once more seated comfortably on the bench, he growled uncomplimentary remarks about Pitcher Smith! There was no scoring in that half of the second and none in either half of the third. Tom managed to hold the enemy hitless, although the Lynton captain came very near to reaching first on a smash that almost carried third baseman off his feet. The ball and the runner reached the first sack at about the same instant, and Mr. George’s decision might well have been made either way. He ruled the runner out, however, and quickly quelled the mutinous murmurs of the Lynton team. Mr. George, who seemed to be having a very good time of it, conducted himself like a league umpire and there was something in his “That’ll do! Play ball!” that discouraged protest.
The fourth inning opened for Lynton with the second clean hit of the game and the batsman reached first with time to spare. Then a hit-and-run resulted in an out at first and put a man on second. But, although there were moments when things looked desperate for the home team, the inning finally ended without a tally, Smith being coaxed by Tom into hitting a fly to the left fielder, which that youth pulled down. But the Blues fared no better; in fact, not so well, for, although Sam, discarding his new method of short-swinging in favor of slugging, lined out a two-bagger, he never got beyond that station.
The game had resolved itself into a pitchers’ battle, with Tom barely holding his own against his more experienced opponent. Only the sharpest sort of fielding behind him and a really wonderful catch of a foul by Sam kept Lynton’s score down to that one lone tally. The onlookers were getting full value for their money—the Blues, in view of the more than usual amount of interest in the deciding contest, had audaciously charged fifteen cents for admission—and were sitting well forward in their seats most of the time. Even on the bench the suspense was beginning to tell. Mr. Hall had dragged his discolored Panama well over his eyes, folded his arms, and was watching events with keen interest. Mr. Talbot, smiling as he always did smile when he was anxious, made infrequent remarks in low tones to which his neighbor merely nodded.
The fifth passed uneventfully into history, only three men going to bat for the Blues and four for Lynton. Smith mowed down his adversaries mercilessly, seldom pitching more than four balls to each. Tom had to work harder, and in that first of the fifth had a narrow escape from punishment when the Lynton right fielder cracked out what looked to be good for two bases, but resolved itself into a remarkable put-out by the Blues’ centre fielder, who ran almost into left garden for the ball and then got it an inch from the turf, receiving from an overwrought audience a burst of applause that quite embarrassed him.
In the sixth the Lynton catcher started things off with a slow bunt that third baseman overran and so reached first base. Steve Arbuckle charitably scored a hit for the batter. Then the head of the visiting team’s list came up and things again looked bad for Amesville. But Fortune favored the Blues. Tom deceived the next man and added another strike-out to his credit, and then, when the third batsman hit across to shortstop, that youth tossed to second baseman and second baseman sped the ball to first, and the Amesville partisans warmly applauded a very pretty double-play.
The Blues threatened in their half of the sixth, but failed to make good the threat. A scratch hit put Tom on first and an error spoiled what should have been a double, and the Blues, for the first time, had two men on. But things fizzled out after that. Strikes quickly disposed of the next two batsmen and the third flied out to second baseman with what, aided by a little luck, might easily have been a hit.
The stand was shouting for action now. Pitchers’ battles are interesting enough, but the audience wanted hits. It even demanded them from Lynton, and perhaps that encouragement helped to bring about what followed in that first half of the seventh. A stocky Lynton fielder laid his bat cosily against one of Tom’s fast ones and went to first. Tom tried to nail him but failed. The next batsman bunted toward third, and third baseman, running in fast, scooped up the ball neatly and tried for a double. But second baseman was off his bag when the ball got to him and the runner beat him by a matter of inches, and the subsequent peg to first was too late. That, then, was the situation when the hard-hitting Mr. Smith picked out a bat and strolled nonchalantly to the plate.
“He ought to pass him,” said Mr. Hall anxiously. Mr. Talbot nodded.
“He will.”
And he did, to the amusement of the Amesville supporters and the loudly voiced scorn of the Lynton bench. Smith accepted his fate philosophically, tossed his bat aside and walked to first.