[CHAPTER XVII]
IN WHICH A FIRE ALARM AIDS MANNIG, AND THE FOUR LEAVE HURRIEDLY
Things looked bad, indeed, for the visiting team. The watchers on the grand stand were on their feet, shouting continuously. Not a few were joining the throng on the turf, scurrying to places along the base lines. Sullivan was plainly rattled, and his first delivery went so wild that Conly, try as he might, could not reach it. In raced the runner from third, and, close behind him, the second man. But although the first reached home safely the other met with misfortune, and was nailed a yard from the plate. But that was only one out, there was still a man on third, and the score was five to four. And, another factor in Laurelville’s favor, her captain and best batsman was facing Sullivan with a cool, smiling face. One run would tie the score; two would give the home team the lead. What wonder, then, that Laurelville went wild with delight, and utterly forsook the grand stand?
Conly and Sullivan met midway between plate and pitcher’s box, and conferred in whispers to an accompaniment of derisive jeers from the supporters of the Green-and-White. Then the pitcher returned to his place, twirled his arms, and shot the ball forward.
Bang!
The Laurelville captain had caught it for a nice bunt toward first base, a slow-rolling, erratic bunt that sent pitcher and first baseman scurrying for it. And in from third raced the runner. But Simpson found the ball speedily, scooped it up, and with the same movement sent it in to catcher. The runner from third saw defeat before him and drew up. Then he turned back, and in a twinkling catcher and third baseman were running him down between them. He turned and twisted while the ball flew back and forth above his head until, at last, almost hemmed in, he made a desperate lunge toward third, sent Burns staggering aside out of his path, and reached his refuge in safety. Burns angrily picked up the ball which had been jostled from his hand, while the Laurelville supporters cheered and shouted. For, although there had been, contrary to their captain’s expectations, no tally, the captain himself was sitting calmly on the bag at second. Then once more Fortune turned her back on the wearers of the Blue. Sullivan struck the next man with the ball, and after he had been rubbed and condoled with by half the Laurelville team, he went limping and grinning to first and filled the bases again!
Once more Conly strove to calm the erratic Sullivan, and once more the crowd hooted as catcher and pitcher whispered together. Then Sullivan went back and faced the next batsman. Up shot his arms, and forward sped the sphere.
“Ball!” droned the umpire.
Again, and,
“Two balls!” was the verdict.
“Pick out a good one!” called the captain from where he was dancing about at second. And the coaches shrieked and leaped in their efforts to further disturb the equanimity of the already badly rattled pitcher. Sullivan rubbed a hand in the dirt, wiped it on his trousers, and settled the ball in it carefully, striving to collect himself.