But they didn’t. Billy White hit a weak one to Ellis and was out by a mile. Hoffman popped up a mean little foul to the catcher and Wayne, hitting safely to short left, obeyed instructions and tried to stretch the hit to two bases and was caught a foot off by a fine throw from left fielder.
Again Toonalta secured a hit, her fifth, after one man was gone in the first half of the next inning. It was Gore, shortstop, who performed the feat, and it was Gore who gave as pretty an exhibition of base-stealing as one ever sees. He stole second when the Toonalta catcher struck out and blocked Hoffman’s throw and then stole third a moment later. Gas got the ball to White as quick as he could, but Gore was already sliding his cleats against the bag. Even Medfield cheered that exploit, realising the next instant that, even with two down, everything predicted another tally for the enemy. But once more Fortune favoured the Blues. Or perhaps the credit should go to Pete Chase. At least, Wayne didn’t deserve much of it, for the ball that came at him was breast-high and he didn’t have to move from his tracks to take it. Anyhow, it ended another anxious moment, and the Chenangos again went to bat.
This was the last of the fifth, Toonalta was still two runs to the home team’s none and it was surely time to do something in the way of scoring if anything was to be done. When the other crowd is two runs to the good, and the game is just half over, you begin to count innings! Despaigne started out poorly enough, trickling a bunt to third and being thrown out easily. Chase did no better, being retired by second baseman to first. The home team’s hopes dwindled again and its supporters, human-like, began to grumble and make pessimistic remarks. But Hal Collins was hopefully applauded, nevertheless, when he stepped to the plate, looking, as it seemed, a little more determined than usual in spite of the smile that curled his lips. The smile was the result of June’s earnest plea to “Please, sir, Mister Collins, r’ar up an’ bust it!”
Pitcher Ellis, with two gone, took Collins untroubledly. He tried to sneak the first one across for a strike, to be sure, failing narrowly, but after that he sent in two wide ones, and Hal would have had three balls to his credit had he not, for some reason, swung at the third delivery, missed it widely and made the score one-and-two. Ellis tried a drop then; Collins had fallen for it before; but it went unheeded and put him in the hole. There was nothing to do then but let Collins hit—or pass him—and Ellis wasn’t issuing many passes today. The next delivery was high and over the plate, and Collins fouled it into the stand. The next was lower and might have gone for a ball had not the batsman swung at it, met it fairly on the end of his bat, and sent it travelling down the field just over first baseman’s head and hardly more than a yard inside the foul line. It was good for two bases and Medfield cheered wildly.
“Bring him in, Jim!” cried the Blue team as the Chenango first baseman accepted the bats that June proffered and strode to the plate, and “Here we go!” shouted a strong-voiced spectator. “Here we go! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!” A hundred others took up his chant and beat time to it with feet on planking or with clapping hands. Whether the pandemonium had its effect on Pitcher Ellis or not, certain it is that his first delivery was grooved if ever ball was grooved, and equally certain is it that Jim Wheelock drove it straight past the pitcher and out of the infield and that Hal Collins tore around from second, touched third with flying feet and slid into the plate well ahead of the ball!
“There’s one of ’em!” shrieked Hoffman. “Let’s have another, Cap! Hit it out! Bust it!”
Joe Taylor tried his best to bring Jim in from second, but failed, finally flying out to centre field and ending the rally.
Still one to two was better than two to nothing, and the home team trotted hopefully out to their places for the beginning of the sixth.