“Now, fellows, it’s our last chance,” remarked the coach, as Holly Cross stepped up in the ninth, his teeth fairly gritting together. “Two runs to win—that is if we hold ’em down when they come up.”
“I’ll do that part,” guaranteed Tom grimly.
From the grand stands there were shouts and yells of encouragement—and otherwise. Bean led his cohorts in, “It’s Your Last Chance, Boys—Soak It!” a Randall classic of the diamond. Well, Holly did “soak” it, with the result that he knocked the prettiest three-bagger seen in many a day. Then came Sid’s turn. Two strikes were called on him, and then came a foul.
“I’m afraid he’s going to fan,” whispered Tom to the coach.
“Watch him,” advised Mr. Leighton.
There was a reassuring “thump” as the next ball reached Sid. Away sailed the sphere right over the center fielder’s head.
“It’s a beaut! It’s a beaut! Run! Run! Run!” yelled the frenzied students. Holly was legging it in from third and my! how Sid was running! Low down, and like the wind! The frantic center fielder was racing for the ball amid the daisies. On and on came Sid!
“A home run! A home run!” screamed Tom and his players, jumping up and down and over the bench in their excitement. Around the bases came Sid, following Holly. The second baseman swung around third and started for home, but the ball was on the way. Would he beat it?
He did, by about a second, rushing in almost exhausted, over the plate which Holly had just crossed.