And so the game went on, now and then a bit of sensational fielding, or a pitcher tightening up in a critical place, setting the crowd to howling.
It was nearing the close of the contest. It looked like the Cardinals, for they were three runs to the good, and it was the ending of the eighth inning. Only phenomenal playing, at this stage, could bring the Reds in a winner.
Some of the crowd, anticipating the event, were already leaving, probably to catch trains, or to motor to some resort.
"Well, it's a good start-off," said Rad to Joe, as he started out to the field, for the beginning of the ninth.
"Yes, but it isn't cinched yet."
"It will be soon."
The Reds were at bat, and Joe, vainly wishing that he had had a chance to show what he could do, pulled his sweater more closely about him, for the day was growing cool.
Then Batonby, one of the reserve players, strolled up to him.
"You didn't get in, either," he observed, sitting down.
"No. Nor you."