On her part Yale had managed to get one run across, and thus the game stood at the beginning of the fifth inning. In that, for one fearful moment, Joe had fears. He had been signalled to walk the heaviest batter, but something went wrong, and the man plugged a three bagger that got past Spike. The next man up was a good hitter, and Kendall, in fear and trembling, signalled for another pass. But Joe shook his head. He was going to try to strike him out. And he did.
Amid wild roars the man was retired, and when two more had gone down, and Princeton was still without a run, pandemonium broke loose.
Though Yale tried with all her might to sweeten the score, she could not—at least in the next two innings. She batted well, but Princeton seemed to be right on the ball every time. And with only one run as a margin, the game was far from won.
“But we’ll do it!” cried Hatfield, fiercely.
“That’s what!” echoed Joe.
Yale’s chance came in the eighth inning, when, owing to an error by the Princeton shortstop, a man got to first. None were out, and Joe rapped out a pretty two-bagger that, followed by a wild throw home, enabled a man to score. Then Joe was brought in on a sacrifice hit, and when the inning ended Yale had three more runs, making the score four to nothing in her favor.
Once more the riot of blue shot over the stands, while the orange and black fluttered listlessly. But the tiger was growling in his lair, while the bulldog was thus barking, and every Yale player knew that fortune might yet turn against them.
But when Princeton had her last chance to bat, and only managed to get one run, it was all over but the shouting. Joe had pitched magnificently, and when the last chance of the Princeton tiger had vanished there was a rush for the young pitcher, and he was fairly carried away on the shoulders of his fellows.
And such cheering as there was!
“Yale wins!”