“Here’s where we walk away!” crowed a Harvard man, but the wearers of the crimson did not, for that run was the only one they got that inning. But it was a start, and it looked big below the goose egg that adorned Yale’s score.
The game went on, varyingly. Yale managed to get two runs in the fifth inning, putting her one ahead, for Joe had done such good work, aided by the rest of the team, when a hit was made, that Harvard had not scored again.
“Matson’s pitching a great game!” exclaimed Mr. Hasbrook, as he watched eagerly. “I told you we wouldn’t make any mistake if we let him go in first,” and he looked at his colleagues.
“But that was a costly fumble,” declared Mr. Benson.
“Yes, but no one is perfect. Besides we’re ahead.”
“Only one run.”
“That’s enough to win the game.”
“But hardly with four more innings to go,” rejoined Mr. Whitfield, dubiously.
“Look at that!” exclaimed Mr. Hasbrook, in excitement, as Joe grabbed a hot liner and whipped it over to first in time to catch the man napping there. “Matson’s more than just a pitcher.”
“You seem interested in him,” spoke Mr. Benson.