"Ow-ow-ow!" yelled a few of the Central fans in the eighth, and Dave Darrin struck a two bagger, bringing Prescott in safe from second, scoring a third run and landing Darrin on second. Had not Ross struck out immediately afterward there would have been other runs scored. The count was now three to nothing in favor of the Central Grammars.
"Prescott's fellows are playing some ball," declared Bill Rodgers.
"Hub! You mean that the Souths don't know how to play," sneered
Hi Martin.
"Teall's fellows are playing well," argued Rodgers. "If you watch, you'll see that the luck of the Centrals depends a lot on the way they run the bases. Whew! They go like greased lightning when they're sprinting around the diamond."
"Well, why shouldn't they run?" demanded Hi. "Prescott and his fellows have been running every day since the snow went away."
"I wish our Norths had been running all the time, too," sighed
Bill.
The Souths were playing desperately well in the field. Dick's side came in for the ninth, but did not succeed in getting another run.
"Now, watch 'em closely, fellows," counseled Dick, as, from the benches, he started his men out to the field. "The Souths are mad and game, and they may get runs enough in this last half to beat us. Play, all the time, as if you didn't know what it was to be tired. Keep after 'em!"
Dick struck the first South Grammar fellow out. The next man at bat took first on called balls. The next hit a light fly that was good for a base. The player who followed sent a bunt that Dave, as short-stop, fumbled. And now the bases were full.
"Oh, you Ted!" wailed the South fans hopefully. "Do your duty now, Teall!"