Jack trotted back to the bench feeling like a murderer, but strangely enough he met only amused smiles or sympathetic grins as he squeezed into retirement between Sam and Tyler Wicks, and if Shay meant to take him out he said nothing about it then nor later. But Will Watkins, seated further along amongst the substitutes, looked hopeful.
That one run lead Chase maintained for inning after inning. Maple Ridge got men on bases several times, and only Ted got to third, but always the hit needed to bring in a run was lacking. Clifford was pitching good ball, for, although Maple Ridge got as many hits as her adversary, they were scattered, and the Chase fielders refused to make errors. In the fourth inning Chase again looked dangerous when Gibson singled to right, took second on a sacrifice hit and third on an infield out. But he died there, for Sam fanned the next batsman. Again, in the eighth, Chase threatened to add to that single tally of hers. Sam passed the first man up, the second was safe when Smythe fumbled a fast grounder, and both moved up on a sacrifice. But again Sam settled down and pitched perfect ball and Gibson and Brothers struck out.
And all this time Maple Ridge was doing her best to slip in a run to tie the score, and always fate was against her. Clifford grew stronger as the game progressed and in the seventh and eighth innings not a Maple Ridge player saw first. The gloom thickened fast. In the first of the ninth Chase was all for starting a batting rally and the coaches made more noise than two steam calliopes, but Sam was still going strong. The first man was an easy out, Smythe to Ted, the second flied out to Truesdale and the third never left the plate, falling victim to Sam’s elusive slants.
“Come on, fellows!” cried Dolph as they trotted to the bench. “Last chance, you know. Here’s where we pull in a couple.” But in spite of his hopeful words Dolph looked pretty tired and nervous and dispirited. The Maple Ridge supporters were on their feet, cheering loudly as Ted, the head of the list, stepped to bat. Down at first Truesdale danced around in the coacher’s box and shouted encouragement, and back of third Joe Williams, who had a voice like a fog-horn, was waving and yelling.
Ted struck twice and missed, waited and got the benefit of three balls and then let go at a high, straight one. The ball trickled erratically half-way to the pitcher’s box. Pitcher and catcher ran for it, jostled confusedly and allowed Ted to reach first in safety. Then the cheering began in earnest! Midget Green was seen standing on his head in front of the stand, and they say it took him almost all of Sunday afternoon to recover the treasures that dropped from his pockets. Smythe, whose batting had been poor all the afternoon, was taken out and Dick Furst went in to bat for him. Furst managed to connect with the second offer and sent Ted to second, going out himself at first. When Dolph stepped up to the plate surely even Rome never heard such howling! Now was the time for Dolph to make good with one of his three-baggers. But alas for reputation! Dolph, nervous and over-anxious, struck at some of the worst balls Clifford had in his repertoire and finally fanned himself out.
Two gone and the score still one to nothing against them! It was all over! Maple Ridge stuffed its score-cards in its pockets, settled its hats and prepared for the exodus. But perhaps Truesdale didn’t share the general pessimism as he selected his bat and strode to the rubber, for he faced Clifford confidently and smilingly.
“Last man!” shouted Brothers, the Chase second baseman. “Two gone, Bob; let him hit it!”
Had Brothers, who had fielded his position in masterly style all the afternoon without an error, known what was about to happen, he wouldn’t have spoken so cheerfully. For Truesdale, after having a strike and two balls called on him, picked out something he liked and slammed it hard toward second baseman. In streaked Ted and down the line flew Truesdale. Brothers took the grounder on the bound, dropped it, kicked it and finally, when he had it safe in hand again, Truesdale was on first, the score was tied and the Maple Ridgers were howling and shouting like lunatics, dancing over the grass and thumping each other anywhere and everywhere. The light green flags waved frantically, and the spectators threatened to put an end to the game then and there by overflowing the diamond and carrying off the Maple Ridge players.
Meanwhile consternation had seized the visiting team, consternation and fright. Brothers, after slamming his glove to the ground and begging shortstop to kick him—something shortstop looked very willing to do—joined the pitcher and third baseman in a consultation at the mound. What they said or planned I can’t say. Certainly, though, Clifford was no longer the same fellow who had held Maple Ridge scoreless and helpless for eight innings. He was palpably nervous as the others went back to their positions.
“Pick out a good one, Borden,” said Mr. Shay calmly as Jack selected his bat. “It only takes one, you know.”