In the meantime Jack, running like a deer, had passed first and was making for second. The shortstop had made a high but ineffectual jump for the ball, and now he and the fielder behind him were both after the sphere. There was a short mix-up, and then the fielder sent the ball with unerring aim toward the catcher at the home plate.
“Slide, Dan, slide!”
And then Dan Soppinger, running as he had never run before, dropped down and slid to the plate amid a whirl of dust, followed instantly by the ball, which landed with a thud in the catcher’s mitt.
“He’s safe! He’s safe!”
“And look! Jack Rover is going to make third!”
Realizing that it was too late to catch the man at the plate, the catcher threw the ball down to second. But Jack Rover had already started for third, and now he streaked along with all his might, arriving at that bag just an instant before the ball followed him.
“That’s the way to do it, boy! Keep it up!”
“Oh, he made three bases!” cried one of the girls in the grandstand. “Isn’t that just lovely?”
“I told you he’d do it, Ruth,” said another of the girls.
“I wish my cousin Dick was coming up,” remarked one of the girls. “I’m sure he would be able to help them out.”