“Didn’t you hear him say that he was going to run up to-night to that old man’s house to see whether you’d come across or not?”
“Yes.”
“Well, where could we have a better chance for pulling off our little game? It’s probably a poor neighborhood with the lights none too good and where a scrap wouldn’t attract much attention because it’s a common thing. Moriarity and his bunch could be on hand and the rest would be as easy as taking a dead mouse from a blind kitten.”
“By Jove, the very thing!” ejaculated Fleming, a look of malevolent delight coming into his face.
“Sure it is,” chuckled Connelly. “I’ll get word to Moriarity at once. In the meantime, you’d better settle. Take in all you can of the neighborhood while you’re doing it.”
“Even if Markwith wins this afternoon and so ends the Series, I’d like to put this through on Matson just the same,” snarled Fleming, viciously.
“No we won’t,” declared Connelly, decidedly. “I’m out to keep him from winning the Series and nothing else. If Markwith wins, the game’s up, anyway, and the thing ends for me right there. But if he loses I’ve got a chance, and I’ll see that Matson doesn’t pitch the last game.”
All Boston seemed to have turned out that afternoon at Braves Field. The enormous seating accommodations were taxed to capacity. It was the last chance the loyal Bostonians would have to see their favorites in action. And the fact that if they lost to-day their chance for the world’s pennant was gone brought the excitement to a delirious pitch.
Landers was in the box for the Bostons while Markwith twirled for the Giants. Before the game had gone three innings it was seen that both these gladiators were out to do or die. There was an unusual number of strike outs and the bases were occupied only at infrequent intervals. Up to the fifth it was little more than a pitcher’s duel. But after that, though Landers kept his effectiveness, the Red Sox began to get to Markwith more frequently. It was not that the latter seemed to have let down a particle. His speed and his curves were working beautifully, but in a way almost uncanny the Bostons seemed to know what kind of ball was coming next and set themselves for it accordingly.