In the eighth Sam did not seem able to pull himself together and three runs were due to his poor pitching.
“Say, if we play innings enough we’ll beat ’em even with their new pitcher!” called some one in the crowd, anxious to get Sam’s “goat,” or nerve.
And this seemed likely. In their half of the eighth the Stars only got one run, and when the ninth inning opened there were some anxious hearts among the members of the visiting team.
And then came a terrible slump. Sam grew wild, allowed bases on balls, struck one man and muffed an easy fly. When the route and riot were over there were five runs to the credit of the schoolboy players and they had tied the score, pulling up from a long way in the rear. The crowd went wild for them.
“Fellows, we’ve got to make our half of this inning count,” said Darrell earnestly. “They’re making fools of us and they’re not in our class at all. We’ve got to beat them! Sam, wake up!” he said sharply.
“I’m not asleep!” retorted the pitcher. “If you think I am why don’t you send that Matson in again?”
“Easy now, easy,” spoke Rankin. “You can pitch if you pull yourself together, and if we can’t make a run this inning and it goes to the tenth you’ll have to unwind some curves.”
“I will, but it won’t go to the tenth.”
It didn’t, for the Stars took a brace and pulled off one run, winning the game by a score of fourteen to thirteen. But it had been a close call.
“Well, you beat us,” acknowledged the Academy manager as the winning run came in. “But it took two pitchers to do it, and you’d have done better if you’d stuck to the first one.”