“Swat it, Tom. Swat it!” was the general cry. “Bring in a home run!”
“Watch me,” he answered grimly.
Two strikes were called on him, and two balls. There was a nervous tension on everyone, for, unless Tom made good, the game would have to go another inning, when all sorts of possibilities might happen.
Ping!
That was the mighty sound of Tom’s bat landing on the ball. Away sailed the horsehide—up and away, far over the head of the centre fielder, who raced madly after it.
“Go on! Go on!”
“Run, you swatter, run!”
“A homer! A homer!”
These cries greeted and encouraged Tom as he legged it for first base. On and on he went, faster and faster, rounding the initial bag, going on to second and then to third. The centre fielder had the ball now, but he would have to relay it in. He threw as Tom left third.
“Come on! Come on!” yelled Joe, jumping up and down.