The academy, however, responded vociferously when the next man struck out, and their shouts were prolonged and wilder when the following batter sent up a fly which was caught by the nimble player in right field.
“All over but the shouting!” called one hilarious supporter of the academy.
“Is it?” called Smith derisively, as the runner he was coaching started swiftly for second base, and out of the cloud of dust that was stirred up as he threw himself forward the decision “safe” was heard.
To the delight of the nine Walter boldly started, at the first ball pitched, for third base, and when it was seen that his steal had been successful the shouts and calls redoubled. A hit now would mean another run, and if the batter gained his base another run which would tie the score was not impossible. The wild calls died away a brief moment and then burst forth in redoubled power when the batter drove a sharp grounder between first and second and Walter made “home” with another run. The brief rejoicing hushed when Ned lifted a high fly into left field. The fielder first ran back, then turned and raced forward, and then stopped, awaiting the coming of the ball. A deathlike silence fell over the field and benches alike. Every face was turned toward the young fielder. Gus ran forward from the bench and crouched low as he watched the ball. Apparently it seemed to be falling slowly. The fielder stood motionless. Suddenly he put up his hands and caught it. The nine of the Military Academy had won the first game of the interschool series by a score of five to four.
A noisy cheer greeted the catch and then in comparative silence the assembled spectators began to move from the seats toward the waiting automobiles and carriages. The crowd halted a moment to listen to the cheers which the victorious nine gave as they assembled and then to the cheers of the Tait School nine.
The latter stood close together, every player resting his hands on the shoulders of a teammate. The cheer rose with a great volume of sound, but in it there was to be detected something of the disappointment everyone felt. The game had been well played, but defeat was still defeat.
“Too bad, Ned,” said Dan as his friend walked beside him. “We’ll try to do better next time. It’s early in the season yet, you know.”
“How is your arm?” asked Ned abruptly.
“Sore.”
“That’s the way we all feel,” snapped Ned. “If you had kept on we’d have won the game.”