“Not much! Here is where we score!”
But alas for the hopes of Hixley High! The next man up went out on strikes, and the fellow to follow knocked a foul which was easily gathered in by the third baseman.
“Now here is where we bring home the bacon!” cried Ned Lowe, one of the Colby Hall fans.
Andy Rover had been burning to distinguish himself, and now his chance came. First to the bat, he made a very neat base hit. Then, however, came an out, and the Colby Hall boys were, for a moment, downcast. But they quickly recovered when the next player made a single and Andy slid around safely to third.
“Now then, a hit! Just a neat little hit!” came the entreating cry.
“Oh, if only they do get it!” murmured Ruth Stevenson. “I wish Jack was at the bat.”
“It’s my cousin Dick!” cried May Powell, and she was right—Spouter Powell was up.
Spouter was not a particularly strong ball player, but he had one feature which was in his favor—he knew how to keep cool, and that helped greatly in this heart-breaking emergency. He waited calmly until two strikes and two balls had been called, and then he struck a low one, sending it just inside the first-base line. It slipped past the baseman, and as Spouter’s feet crossed the bag, Fred Rover slid in safely to the home plate.
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Colby Hall wins!”
Then followed a wild cheering and yelling, in the midst of which the crowds on the bleachers and the grandstand broke forth to mingle with the players on the ball field. Of course, the Hixley High students were much crestfallen, yet they tried to take their defeat in good part.