“Out!” called the umpire. One run was saved.
Then, like a flash the catcher threw to third, for the man who had been on first, having reached second, rather imprudently tried for another bag. He was tagged there by as neat a double play as could be desired, and the West Pointers had finished, with but the one run to their advantage.
“We need one to tie and two to win,” exclaimed Shorty to Joe, as he tossed his big mitt into the air. “Why,” he added, “what’s the matter with your arm?” for he saw it hanging down limp.
“A strain,” replied Joe shortly. “I’m all right.”
“You are not! McLeary must look at you. We’ll play somebody else this inning. You go get rubbed.” And Joe was glad enough to do so.
[CHAPTER XXVII]
THE ACCUSATION
Yale won from West Point. It was almost a foregone conclusion after that sensational inning when Joe went down and out with his sprained arm, after saving the game. His mates rallied to the support of, not only himself, but the whole team, and, the cadets, having been held runless, the wearers of the blue made a determined stand.