With all the force of his sinewy arm, Joe “put it over.”
The batsman made a wicked drive at it and 101 sent it hurtling to the box about two feet over Joe’s head.
Joe saw it coming, leaped into the air and speared it with his gloved hand. The men on bases had started to run, thinking it a sure hit. Joe wheeled and sent the ball down to Burkett at first.
“Look at that!”
“Some speed, eh?”
“I should say so.”
“Matson has got them going!”
The man who had left the bag strove desperately to get back, but he was too late. That rattling double play had ended the game with the All-American team a victor by a score of four to three.
Joe’s fingers tingled as he pulled off the glove, for that terrific drive had stung. The crowd had been stunned for a moment by the suddenness with which the game and their hopes of victory had gone glimmering. But it had been a remarkable play and the first silence was followed by a round of sportsmanlike applause—though of course it was nothing to what would have greeted the victory of the home team.
“Fine work, Matson!”