“Time!” called the umpire.
“What for?” shrieked Mort Prince.
“I want to tie my shoe,” replied Sam sweetly, as he knelt and went through the motions.
“He’s delaying the game!” cried Prince. “I protest, Mr. Umpire.”
Sam arose, picked up the ball and nodded.
“Play!” said Mr. Shay.
But still Sam was in no hurry. He put his head on one side and studied Dolph’s signal intently, thought it over for a moment and then shook his head. Dolph tried again and again Sam pondered. All this time Wales was swinging his bat more and more nervously, the Towners were hurling insults and protests and Prince was dancing with rage. At last Sam nodded, threw his arms up very slowly and stepped forward and launched the ball. It was a slow one. Wales leaned forward, his bat poised. An instant of suspense. Then he swung. There was a thud as the ball struck Dolph’s mitt and the next moment the crowd was over the diamond. Wales had struck out!
They caught Sam before he could run, and, high on the shoulders of three Boarders, he went swaying and bobbing up the hill to the gymnasium, the rest of the team following in similar fashion amidst a tumult that made all previous efforts seem weak and futile. The Boarders had won, 6 to 5, and they meant that the world should know it!