But it was. He knew it was. So was the warning about the bat. He had helped save the game, and he had proved to the doubting Bonner that he was a good sportsman. He liked that laughing, blue-eyed, freckle-faced boy; he wished he would move to Lakeville.
The score:
| Innings | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |
| Belden | 0 | 0 | 0 | 3 | 0 | 0 | |||
| Lakeville | 0 | 2 | 0 | 0 | 0 | ||||
Substitute No. 3
Prissler, at the tail-end of the batting list, had already struck out twice, and he expected to do it again when he faced the Belden pitcher in the last half of the sixth inning. Instead, he walked on four balls.
Somehow, it did not seem quite fair. He had done nothing to deserve the honor of being a base runner, and he felt a little sorry that the rules permitted him to profit by the pitcher's wildness. He was on first, precisely as he would have been after hitting safely. Yet he had made no hit; had not the skill, indeed, to make one. In some unaccountable manner, he had gained an advantage he did not deserve.
Prissler had batted first in that inning. Specs, up next, flied out. Jump fanned. There were now two out, with Bunny at bat.
After allowing the first pitched ball to sing past without offering at it, Bunny met the second squarely. At the crack of the bat, Prissler dashed for second.
"It's a homer!" shrieked Specs excitedly. He was coaching off third. "Come on, Prissy! Come on!"
Both the shortstop and the second baseman were facing the outfield, watching the soaring ball. Prissler touched the bag and wheeled toward third. At that corner of the diamond, Specs was executing a war-dance, with wildly swinging arms.