If the batter heard the direction he gave it no heed, for he sent the first ball pitched far over the head of the left-fielder. Almost on a straight line the ball sped on, rolling swiftly when at last it struck the ground, while both the left-fielder and the center-fielder of the academy ran in swift pursuit. Pandemonium almost seemed to break loose among the boys of the Tait School. They rose from their seats and swung their caps, dancing up and down in their excitement as they shouted and cheered wildly. The excitement became still greater when Gus turned third base and followed Ned toward the home-plate. The ball by this time had been secured and the left-fielder had thrown it, exerting all his power, to the short-stop, who had run back to secure it.
There were now wild calls for Gus to increase his speed. Ned already had crossed the home-plate, but Gus was fifteen yards away. On and still on plunged the heavy hitter and the ball was in the hands of the academy short-stop. Ignoring the wild shouts of the dancing boys the player turned and threw swiftly to his catcher. The throw was accurately made and the ball was caught in the outstretched hands of the academy catcher when Gus was five feet away, but the runner did not hesitate. Throwing himself with all his weight against the waiting player the two boys fell together to the ground. Gus instantly arose, but the other player did not move. The ball had rolled from his hand, and a shout arose when it was learned that the run was to count. Silence, however, quickly followed the noisy demonstration when it was seen that the academy catcher did not rise. Several of his teammates ran to his assistance and as they lifted the player to a standing position the latter, in part regaining his breath, turned angrily to the umpire and said, “He fouled me! He struck me with his fist in the pit of my stomach!”
“I didn’t see it,” responded the umpire quietly.
“Well, he did!” repeated the catcher. “It was dirty ball!”
There were glances of anger turned upon Gus, but the panting player apparently was unmindful of them all. He seated himself beside Dan on the bench and in a brief time the game was resumed.
The following batter struck out and Dan, who followed him, sent a short fly to second base, and the side was out.
In the next two innings neither side was able to score. Dan struck out two of the academy players in each inning and one was out on a high foul which Hodge caught. The first hit of the academy nine came in the third inning, when one of the players drove a sharply hit ball past first base, close to the foul line. In trying to stretch the well-placed hit into a two-base hit the runner was thrown out at second base.
On the other hand, the nine of the Tait School had not succeeded in scoring again. In the third inning two hits were made, one by Smith and one by Walter’s substitute, Sam Ventnor, but both were held on bases when a double play was made by the short-stop and first-baseman, the former catching a fly well back in the field and recovering himself in time to catch Ned in an attempt to regain first, which he had secured by a base on balls, thereby filling the bases.
“Good work, old man,” said Ned to Dan as the Tait School players started for their positions at the beginning of the fourth inning. “Keep it up and we’ll shut out these fellows. We’ve a good lead.” Dan smiled, for the words of praise were vastly encouraging. He was confident that he had recovered from the nervousness he felt at the beginning of the game and, furthermore, he was now aware that the batters, as they faced him, betrayed in their manner the respect they had for his prowess. It was true that two runs did not permit any carelessness—the margin was too narrow. But he had found in preceding games that his power of endurance could be relied upon and that his work in the closing innings was never weaker than at the beginning.
“There comes Walter,” he said to Ned as he stopped and saw his roommate approaching. “I wonder if he is in shape to play? He has his uniform on, anyway.”