Considerably heartened, the team took to the field determined to play air-tight ball behind Honey Wiggins, who made his way to the box, while a cheer with his name tacked on the end of it resounded from the bleachers. Honey was no slouch at pitching. He had been going well all season and improving steadily, until now he was almost as capable as big George Dixon, so his team mates had little doubt concerning his ability to make a good showing.
And he did. Although he was pitching against a fighting team, a team one run behind and determined to fight itself out of the hole and back to an advantage again, he held them down to three scattered hits in the succeeding three innings, and in the sixth and seventh sessions he struck out one batter, while in the eighth, although he passed the second man up and permitted the man following to find him for a hit, he held the succeeding two men down to infield drives that retired the side without a score.
In the same sessions, however, the Pennington crew could not do any better. Wells never broke in his steady pitching nor did the team behind him falter at all. They played the finest kind of baseball, and try as the Pennington players did they could not break through the wonderful defense, of an impregnable infield and an outfield that seemed to cover every foot of territory with extreme ease. In the eighth inning the Pennington batters began to find Wells more readily than they had any inning before save the end of the fifth, but that was where his fine support helped him out; although every fellow up landed on his delivery, and two safe hits were made, the five batters who came to the plate never scored. Wade Grenville, the first man up, got a clean single. Jed Stafford, next man in line, banged out an amazingly long fly that looked as if it was worth three bases anyway, but Freeman traveled back and stabbed it with one hand, bringing forth a wild round of applause and cheers from the rooters of both sides, for it was a wonderful catch. Wade managed to get to second on the throw in.
Jeff Thatcher was the next batter up and he too found Wells for a smashing drive that was picked up by Southers and shot down to third in time to cut the flying Wade off. Dick Leslie tried to double by catching Jeff before he made first, but Jeff beat the ball to the bag by more than a yard and was safe. There were two down, a man on first, and Buck Hart up. Buck Hart had made a hit before in the game and Wells was very cautious with him. Indeed he showed his head work by passing Buck to first and moving Jeff on to second, for he realized that the next man up was Honey Wiggins, the pitcher, and he was more willing to take a chance with Honey’s hitting ability than he was with Buck’s bit stick. With two men on and a single needed to bring in a run the Pennington stands went wild yelling for a single.
Honey looked desperate as he faced the Lawrencetown pitcher, but Wells, as cool as could be under the pressure of excitement, never wavered. He paid no attention to the men on base, and pitched to the batter as if he were the only man in the game. He put a perfect strike over for the first ball. Then Honey drew two balls in succession and another strike. With two and two, Wells tried to put over the third and final ball, but Honey saw how good it was and slammed at it. It was a beautiful line drive toward second and it certainly looked as if Honey had succeeded in poking out the necessary hit to score Thatcher. Jeff and Buck, running on anything, tore around the bases madly, but as Jeff rounded third he heard the plunk of ball against leather and he turned his head in time to see Southers coming down from a remarkable jump. He had made a wonderful catch and shut off the chance that Pennington had to add at least one more run to its advantage. The side was retired, but the score still stood 2 to 1 in Pennington’s favor in the beginning of the ninth.
With one frame left in which to do or die, the Lawrencetown players came in from the field all set to break things wide open. It was a fighting team, and a ninth inning situation of this sort was not new to them. They had played through more than one of them and made good during the season and they were determined to do it once again. The Lawrencetown stands started up a volume of cheering that surpassed anything in that line they had done so far during the game. The band opened up with all the brass it had, too, and the team, on its toes, began a line of coaching that indicated all too plainly to the Pennington team out in the field that the Lawrencetown boys were far from accepting the defeat that was staring them in the face. Their fighting spirit had only just been aroused to its full pitch and the buff and blue players knew that this was to be the really big Lawrencetown inning of the game.
All this by way of preliminary may have worked a little under the skin of Honey Wiggins, for with the first ball he pitched it was evident to Jeff on third and to several other players, as well as Captain Tad, that he was a little unsteady.
The catcher walked out to the box with the ball and gave him a word of encouragement, and Jeff from third yelled: “Steady, old boy. Don’t let this thing get on your nerve. We’ve got ’em beaten. Let’s hold ’em down this one session and it’s all over but the shouting.”
“We’ve got ’em where we want ’em. Steady, boy,” called Buck Hart as he spat on his glove and settled down to play short.
Southers, the head of the Lawrencetown batting order, was up. With one ball to his credit, he stood there grinning at Honey Wiggins, who, very deliberate in all his movements now, was striving to settle his jumping nerves. He wound up for the second ball and delivered it, a perfect strike. But Southers refused to let it be called a strike and landed on it for a clean single into right field.