There was a gasp of protest from Bart behind the plate, for the sphere had come over cleanly. Darrell signalled to the catcher to make no protest. Joe felt a wave of anger, but he endeavored to keep cool. But when the second ball was called on him he wanted to run up and thrash the umpire. The latter was grinning derisively.
“Here’s a strike!” cried Joe, in desperation and he was gratified when Armstrong struck at it and missed.
“Why didn’t you call that a ball?” asked Bart of the umpire. The latter did not answer.
Another ball was called and then a strike. Now came the supreme moment. Two men out, a man on third waiting to rush in with the tieing run, a heavy hitter at bat and three balls and two strikes called on him. No wonder Joe’s hand trembled a little.
“Easy, old man!” called Darrell to him. “You can make him fan.”
Joe thought rapidly. He had studied the batter and he thought that by delivering a swift in-shoot he could fool Armstrong. It was his last chance, for another ball meant that the batter would walk, and there was even a better stick-man to follow.
Joe wound up, and sent in a swift one. His heart was fluttering, he could hardly see, there was a roaring in his ears. And then he dimly saw Armstrong strike at the ball desperately. Almost at the same moment Joe knew he would miss it.
The ball landed in the centre of Bart’s big glove with a resounding whack. He held it exactly where he had caught it. Joe had delivered the winning throw.
“Strike three—batter’s out!” howled the umpire, and then his voice was drowned in a yell of joy from the sympathizers of the Stars.
For their team had won! The Resolutes were retired with but one run in the ninth and the final score was five to six in favor of our friends. They had beaten their old rivals on their own grounds and they had won the county championship!