“You’ll get it, Frank, never fear!” shouted some one from the bleachers, seeing that look he gave.
“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” jeered a Bellport rooter.
“It’s a bully good fight, all right,” admitted a Clifford man, “and we’re only sorry to be out of it up our way. But most of our people want Columbia to win.”
Three more innings saw no change in the score. Several hits were made off each pitcher, but good fielding, and a tightening up all around, prevented any damage resulting from such isolated cases.
So the seventh commenced, with the strain greater than ever.
“Hold them down, Frank! You’ve got it, if you do!”
“But do some little batting yourselves, boys. Get at him! Coddling’s easy when you just know how!” jeered the other side.
When Paul Bird stepped up to the plate to take his turn at the beginning of the seventh some one started to sing, “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean.” A score of voices instantly joined in, followed by hundreds of others, until there was so much noise that the decisions of the umpire could not be heard above it, and he had to depend on gestures entirely.
And while the uproar was at its height Paul was sent to first on balls!
“Coddling is getting rattled, boys! Keep it up!” shrieked a dozen frantic Columbia fellows, waving their ribbon bedecked hats wildly.