Bases full again, two down and the head of the list coming to bat! Now if ever, it seemed, Chase should be derricked and the falling fortunes of the Chenangos entrusted to Jordan. The spectators demanded the change loudly, even rudely, but Joe Taylor, out in right field, was deaf to the inquiring looks sent him and made no sign. Even Chase showed a desire to quit; while, over behind third, Jordan was awaiting the summons. But the summons didn’t come, then or later, and Pete Chase, looking a bit bewildered, philosophically took up his task again and turned his attention to Brook.
Now, Brook, in spite of his reputation, had so far failed to get a hit, and, as Joe explained later, it was on this that the latter based his calculations. Brook would, he thought, be so anxious to deliver that he would very probably fail altogether. Five times out of ten it is questionable policy to put a new pitcher in when bases are full and any sort of a hit means runs. As often as not such a procedure proves to be jumping from frying pan to fire. Had Toonalta chosen to substitute a pinch-hitter for Brook, Joe was ready to switch pitchers, but failing that he decided to trust to Chase and, more especially, perhaps, Hoffman. Whether Captain Taylor’s reasoning was good or bad, in the abstract, on this occasion it was vindicated. With one strike and two balls on him, Brook was offered one that was just above his knees and square over the base, and he went for it. And so did Hal Collins, and caught it almost in the shadow of left field fence, and another tragedy was averted!
In their half of the eighth, the Chenangos went out in one, two, three, order, Collins flying to centre, Wheelock fouling to third, and Taylor being thrown out at first. In the ninth, Toonalta tried very hard to add to her score, but, when the first batsman was retired on an easy toss from Chase to Jim, she lost some of her ginger. Even Billy White’s fourth error, which put Burns on first and seemed to pave the way for a tally, failed to arouse the visitors to much enthusiasm. Probably they thought they could hold their opponents scoreless for another half-inning and were satisfied to call it a day. Gore, however, woke them up when he hit cleanly past Despaigne and advanced Burns to the second station, and the Browns’ coaches got busy again and once more things looked dark for the home nine. But Hunt fouled out to Hoffman—and the big catcher’s expression as he looked at the rival backstop was beautiful to see if you were a Chenango sympathiser!—and the Blues’ first baseman, who had played a star game all the afternoon, ended his services at the bat, and incidentally the inning, by fanning. Chase received an ovation for that strike-out as he returned to the bench, and he deserved it.
Toonalta jogged into the field with a fine confidence, or an appearance of it. She had only to keep the adversary from crossing the plate to win, and since the fifth inning the Chenangos had failed to show anything dangerous. Perhaps the home team itself was more than doubtful of its ability to pluck that contest from the fire, although certainly Joe Taylor showed no sign of dejection. Joe insisted loudly and cheerfully that now was the appointed time, although he didn’t use just those words. What he really said was: “Now come on, Chenangos! Get at ’em! Eat ’em up! Here’s where we start something! Hit it out, Larry! Let’s get this right now!”
But Colton was a disappointment, for he only rolled one to the pitcher’s box when he tried to bunt down first base line and was out in his tracks. Billy White was called back once to make place for Brewster, but even as the pinch-hitter strode to the box Taylor changed his mind again and it was finally the unlucky Billy who stood up at the plate. Just how Billy managed to outguess Ellis was a mystery, but outguess him he did, and presently he was trotting down the path to first base while Vic Despaigne tried to stand on his head and [every other Medfield adherent made a joyful noise]!
[Every Other Medfield Adherent Made a Joyful Noise]
Joy, however, gave place to gloom a few minutes later when Hoffman, after almost securing a two-bagger—the ball only went foul by two inches—sent a hot one straight into third baseman’s glove. As the ball went back to the pitcher the audience started its exodus, for with two down and the runner no further than first, the end was discernible—or so they thought. But what followed only proved again the famous adage that the game isn’t over until the last man’s out.
Wayne got his bat from an anxious-faced June, a June too downhearted to even put a “conjur” on it, listened to Taylor’s instructions to “just meet it, Sloan, and try for the hole between first and second,” and took his place in the trampled dust of the box. Ellis was cautious and deliberate and was putting everything he had on the ball. Wayne let the first one go by and was sorry for it, since it cut the outer corner of the plate and went for a strike. Then Ellis tried him on a wide one, waist-high, and followed it with a second strike, a drop that fooled the batsman completely. Ellis attempted to sneak one over close in, but overdid it and the score was two-and-two, and Wayne realised that a whole lot depended on his judgment of the next offering. Possibly Ellis meant to fool Wayne with a change of pace, for what came next was a slow one that looked tempting. Wayne yielded to the temptation. Then he flung his bat aside and was streaking to first amidst the triumphant shouts of the spectators. At first, Taylor waved him on, and Wayne circled and dug out for second. Centre and left fielder were on the ball together and left fielder made the throw in, but it arrived only when Wayne was stretched in the dust with one toe on the bag. On third, Billy White was listening to excited instructions from Hoffman, while, from the sides of the field, came pæans of delight. Those spectators who had wandered from their seats or points of vantage fought their way back again, crowding and pushing and questioning. Joe Taylor was sending in Brewster for Despaigne, and Hunt, the Toonalta catcher, in spite of his confident reassurances to Ellis, looked disquieted.
On second, Wayne, mechanically slapping the dust from his new togs, hoped hard for a hit. He knew nothing of Brewster’s batting prowess and wished with all his heart that Hal Collins or Jim Wheelock was up. A hit would bring him in from second, with White ahead of him, and win the game. Then he was off the base, watching the shortstop from the corner of his eye, listening for warnings from the coach at first, ready to speed ahead or dodge back. But, with an eager runner on third, Ellis was taking no chances. Nor was Hunt. Once the catcher bluffed a throw-down, but the ball only went to the pitcher, and neither White nor Wayne was fooled.