Tom’s men began to play like fiends. They seemed to be all over the field, and, though Tom was hit for a single, not another man got to first.
“Oh, if we can only hold ’em down, and bring in a few more runs we’ve got ’em!” panted Tom, as he came to the bench in the beginning of the eighth, and sat down beside Sid. “But say, old man, how did it happen that the doctor let you play at the last minute?” he asked, while the others waited for Sid’s answer.
“I’ll tell you later,” the second baseman promised. “Gee, but I had a time getting here! Trolley wasn’t running, and I had to come by train. Thought I’d have a long walk, but I met a fellow in an auto and he gave me a lift. Then, just as I got here I heard that the trolleys started running about five minutes after I left the stalled car. But, Tom, are we going to win?”
“We sure are,” declared the captain, clapping Sid on the back.
[CHAPTER XXXIV]
BATTING TO WIN
But, though things had started off with a rush in the seventh, they went slower for Randall in the eighth, and one run was all that could be gathered in. Holly Cross got to first, and managed to steal second and third, while Kindlings Woodhouse and Bricktop ingloriously fanned. Sid laid out a beautiful three-bagger, bringing in Holly with the run. Then Tom was walked, much to his surprise, with Sid on third, and Joe Jackson got a pass, thus filling the bases. Randall was wild, for it looked as if a big play would be pulled off, but Jerry Jackson fanned, and the three men expired on the bags.
“Hold ’em down, fellows! Hold ’em down!” pleaded Tom. “We only need four runs to win the game, if we can keep ’em from scoring in their next two whacks.”