“Three strikes—batter out!” yelled the umpire, and the second man threw down his stick and walked disgustedly to the bench.
George Stoddard was up next. Tom was afraid of him. He delivered a puzzling slow drop, but Stoddard got under it for a foul.
Tom breathed a bit easier. Two more chances. He sent one of his best out shoots, and Stoddard foolishly bit at it. The ball just grazed the bat, and bounded up into the air. Dutch made a desperate effort for it.
“Can’t get it!” yelled the crowd, as it went over the back grand stand.
The umpire threw Tom a new ball. He hated to use it, as the other seemed just right. But the one that had gone over the stand was slow in being returned. Dutch signalled for another drop, but Tom shook his head. He wanted to try a delicate in-curve.
It seemed that the players and spectators were scarcely breathing—it was the critical point of the game, yet with two down Boxer Hall could scarcely hope to win. Yet there was a chance. Tom delivered the ball. Stoddard swung at it with such force that he turned completely around. But the new, white ball was safe in the mitt of Dutch Housenlager. Stoddard had struck out—there were three down for Boxer in the ending of the ninth, and not a run. Randall had won—the score being five to four.
Then such a chorus of yells as went up! Even Bean Perkins could scarcely be heard.
“Wow! Wow! Wow!” cried Dutch, seizing Holly Cross around the waist, and doing a dance with him about the bench. “We did it!”
“Great work, boys!” cried the coach. “I congratulate you!”
“Three cheers for Randall!” proposed Pinkey Davenport for Boxer Hall, and the yells came with spontaneous enthusiasm.