“One gone!” called Sam. “Here’s the next victim, Andy!”
But Mr. Connell was not so easy. He lighted on Mr. Gifford’s second offering and poked it well into left for two bases, to the great joy of Mount Placid. A hit now would tie the game again. Sam called for high ones and Mr. Gifford tried his best to send them in that way. But he didn’t always succeed, and with one strike and two balls he unfortunately gave Mr. Phillips just what that gentleman fancied. There was a sharp crack and off into short right sped the ball. On second Mr. Connell poised himself to start the instant the ball landed. And start he did, and run he did! Down came the ball into Simpson’s glove after that youth had run halfway to the infield, and Simpson, putting on brakes, made the throw that saved the day. Sam, astride the plate, hands outstretched, waited anxiously. Along the path from third raced the ambitious Mr. Connell. The air was filled with unintelligible cries and noises. Then the ball struck the sod well in front of the plate, bounded straight and thudded into Sam’s hands, and Sam, dropping to his left knee, thrust it against Mr. Connell’s oncoming foot, toppled over on the runner, rolled over and aside and held a hand aloft, the ball still firmly clasped!
[And above the din and through the red dust-cloud sounded Mr. York’s voice, “He’s out!”]
[And above the din and through the red dust-cloud sounded Mr. York’s voice, “He’s out!”]
[CHAPTER XVI]
KIDNAPPED
“What’s the matter?” asked Steve Brown, as, helping Sam to his feet, he heard the latter groan.
“I twisted my knee,” muttered Sam, testing his right leg and flinching as he put his weight on it. “Threw it out of joint, I guess, when he slid into me. It will be all right in a minute.”