“Home-run Hall! Home-run Hall!”
“Did you do it, old man?” cried Joe, rushing up to him.
“Well, I just had to,” was the modest reply. “I’m not going to let you do all the work on this team.”
Gregory was clapping the shortstop on the back.
“Good work!” he said, his eyes sparkling. “Now, boys, we’ll do ’em! Get busy, Joe. Peters, you take him off there and warm up with him.”
Charlie had caught a ball just where he wanted it and had “slammed” it out into the left field bleachers for a home run. It was a great effort, and just what was needed at a most needful time.
Then the game went on. Clevefield was not so confident now. Her pitcher, really a talented chap, was beginning to be “found.”
Whether it was the advent of Joe, after his sensational race, or whether the Pittston players “got onto the Clevefield man’s curves,” as Charlie Hall expressed it, was not quite clear. Certainly they began playing better from that moment and when their half of the fifth closed they had three runs to their credit. The score was
| PITTSTON | 3 |
| CLEVEFIELD | 6 |
“We only need four more to win—if we can shut them out,” said Gregory, as his men took the field again. He sat on the bench directing the game. “Go to it, Joe!”