Through the eddying, shouting, scrambling crowd that had swarmed cheering upon the field, Swanson half led, half carried his exhausted mate.
They had pressed close to the exit to the club dressing rooms, when suddenly a great shout smote the air. A tremor of fresh excitement ran through the crowd.
"What is it, Silent?" asked McCarthy anxiously.
"It's the Scoreboard!" yelled Swanson. "Look! The Jackrabbits scored five in the eighth inning and beat the Panthers out, 6 to 4. Boy, we're champions!"
McCarthy did an odd thing. He slid quietly to the ground in a faint, and they carried him to the dressing rooms.
CHAPTER XXXII
Rejoicing
McCarthy slept the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion. He slept all the way during the homeward journey, waking refreshed and only a trifle stiff when he was called early in the morning to disembark. He and Swanson rode to the hotel in a taxicab, anxious to escape from the crowds that gathered to witness the arrival of the champions after their sensational victory.
"Don't run," urged Swanson, "I'm a hog for punishment of this kind. I could stand around all year and let these people cheer me. It sounds good after what I've heard them say. See that big fellow, yelling his head off, there? He's the same one that yelled 'rotten' at me for two months in the middle of the season."