But he never got further, for a foul arched softly into third baseman’s glove and that nerve-racking eighth inning was at last over, with the Blues leading insecurely by one run.
“If they can hold it they’re all right,” murmured Mr. Hall.
“They’ve got some good hitters coming up,” replied Mr. Talbot doubtfully. “Still, if they get one across that will only tie it up again. Tom had better pass that man Smith, I guess.”
Lynton came to bat determinedly. But Tom, encouraged by success, pitched as craftily as he knew how and the first batsman struck out without a threat. And it seemed that the next was to follow the same way when Tom had two strikes and one ball on him. But, although the second man went out ultimately at first, he spoiled several good ones before he finally hit to shortstop.
“Last man!” called Sam as Smith went to the plate. In the stand they were on their feet, a few trickling down the aisles to be ready to start for home. The man with the grey gloves left his seat and, unnoticed, strolled along toward the Blues’ bench.
Perhaps Sam made an error of judgment when, instead of passing Smith, he tried to get him for the third out, for, in spite of Tom’s best efforts, the Lynton pitcher found one to his liking and leaned against it. Had he hit it fairly it would have tied the score then and there, I think; but he didn’t, and the ball, arching toward first, came down safely behind that bag and a few feet inside the foul line. What might have been expected then happened. Smith, taking a daring lead, stole on the second pitch and, although Sam stepped forward swiftly and threw as straight as an arrow, slid to the bag in safety.
That caused Tom to falter for the first time that day and, almost before anyone realised what was happening, the next batsman was walking to first. Lynton, shouting and dancing, saw her hopes revive. A pinch-hitter was sent in for the next man up. He was a tall, ungainly youth and looked anything but dangerous. But looks are sometimes deceitful. That awkward-appearing youth soon showed himself a canny batsman, and the first thing Tom knew he was in the hole with two balls against him and no strikes! And then, sensing the psychological moment, Lynton called for a double steal as Tom sped the next delivery to the plate. Off for third scudded Smith and down to second flew the next runner. The ball sailed to the plate, as nice a strike as you like, and——
“Hit it!” implored the Lynton coachers. “Hit it!”
But above their cries sounded a voice that reached Sam with startling, galvanizing effort.