"Score, Chub—score!" shrieked Crane, who had pranced down onto the coaching line back of third, and who was waving his long arms grotesquely. "Make it or bust! You kin do it!"
Tuttle continued to the plate, where, raising a great cloud of dust, he arrived on an attempted slide, a moment ahead of the ball, being declared safe.
The Wyndham crowd was filled with dismay; the Oakdalers with the crimson banners were leaping and shrieking on the bleachers. The local players knew something was wrong, and they showed the greatest confusion and consternation. Dade Newbert was making some remarks that would not look well in print.
Captain Eliot had instructed his players to abandon the use of signals for the time being, and to bat and run bases wholly as their judgment might dictate, and this sudden change threatened totally to demoralize the Wyndhamites.
Not a man was out, and the visitors, having already secured two tallies, had a runner moored at third. Berlin Barker stepped forth briskly, urging the umpire to keep the game in motion, his bat held as if he intended to try for a safe bingle. As matters stood, it seemed logical that he should do this, and the Wyndhamites got ready for him.
But Berlin, trusting the speedy Nelson to take advantage of it, bunted the first ball. His confidence in Nelson was not misplaced, Jack sprinting to the plate, while the baffled home players bestirred themselves too late even to get Barker, whose bunt went for a safe hit.
The score was tied.
Foxhall, rushing up to Newbert, whispered excitedly:
"They've changed their signals! That's what's fooling us. We've got to——"
There was a yell. Observing that second base was left practically unguarded, Barker scooted down from first, and he got there ahead of the shortstop, who made an effort to cover the sack.