“In time? What do you mean?” and Mr. Leighton caught at a strange note in Sid’s voice.
“To play the game!”
“Play the game?” Tom had leaped to his feet.
“Yes. It’s all right. Here’s a note from Dr. Churchill. The ban is removed. I can play—I can play!”
Tom ran over, and threw his arms around Sid. The game came to a sudden stop. The note was examined. Mr. Leighton told the umpire to make the announcement that Sid Henderson would bat for Pete Backus that inning, and take his place in the game after that.
“I protest!” cried Langridge, coming up with an ugly look on his face.
There was a conference of the officials, but in the end they had to admit that Sid was eligible, and the game started again. But with what a different feeling among the Randall players! It was as if new life had been infused into them. Bean Perkins started the song, “We’re Going to Wallop ’em Now!” and it was roared out from several hundred lusty throats.
Nor was it unjustified; for with a grim viciousness, after Holly Cross had struck out, Dan Woodhouse rapped out a three bagger the moment he came up to the bat, and Bricktop followed with a two-sack ball, bringing in Kindlings, while Sid, with a happy look on his face, looked grimly at Langridge, as if telling him to do his worst. The stands were still trembling under the stamping that had followed Dan’s arrival home with a run, and when Sid swung at the ball, and duplicated Dan’s trick, bringing in Bricktop, there was a wild riot of yells. They were kept up even when Tom sacrificed to bring Sid home, and then Joe Jackson got to first on a fly that McGherity muffed. Jerry, by hitting out a pretty liner, enabled his brother to get to third, while Jerry was held on first. Up came Dutch and he clouted the ball to such good purpose that he got to third, and the Jersey twins scored. Then poor Dutch died on third for Phil fanned out. But nothing could dampen the enthusiasm of the Randallites then, for they had secured five runs, and the score stood only 12 to 8 against them now.
“Oh, we can catch up!” yelled Bean Perkins. “Now for the ‘Conquer or Die’ song, fellows,” and the strangely beautiful and solemn strains of the Latin melody floated over the field.