“All the way round! Come on in!”
These were some of the yells that greeted Cap’s performance. But he did not stay to listen to them. On he sped for first and rounded the initial bag with a swing that carried him well on to second.
On and on he went, running as he had never run before since he felt that on him now depended the championship.
“Run! Run you lobster!”
“Run, you dear old goat!”
“Run, Cap, run!”
“Come on, boy! Oh, a pretty one!”
The grandstand was rocking and swaying with the stamping of feet. The cheers were deafening. The Vandalia players were almost stupefied. The Freeporters were dancing up and down in a wild delirium of joy.
The rightfielder was running after the ball like mad. He had picked it up. He was throwing it in. Cap was speeding toward third. He had passed it when the fielded ball was in the air. Could he beat it home?
That was what everybody wanted to know. On and on ran the player. Nearer and nearer came the ball. The second baseman had it now. He threw it toward the Vandalia catcher, who, with feet well braced apart was waiting for it with outstretched hands.