"FOURTEEN MILES IN TWENTY-ONE MINUTES"
Ten minutes later the smoke haze that hangs eternally over the great city of the Blues was visible. The country homes along the road over which they sped were closer and closer together.
"Only ten more miles," McCarthy shouted triumphantly.
"We can cut across to the west here," she said as she swung the car into an avenue. "This goes near the ball park and we'll save three miles."
"Hurray," he shouted. "Then it's only seven miles."
The girl did not reply. She was weary and her fair face showed haggard lines. Their progress became slower, although two or three times policemen turned to watch them, as if to interfere.
The grandstand was close now. The steady roar of the huge crowd inside pulsed and beat upon them. A bell rang.
"That's either game time or last fielding practice," screamed McCarthy. "Hurry, please, hurry."
The car suddenly swung out of the line, sent a swarm of pedestrians scurrying, and jarred to a stop at the entrance marked "Players."
"Betty," said McCarthy, as he started to lift her from the car——