"Play first, if you want me to."
"Want you to!" shouted Chub. "But what about Emmy?"
"He's given me permission. Horace has 'fessed up. It's all right."
Chub hugged him violently and deliriously.
"Oh, good boy!" he cried. "It's all right, sir!" he called to Mr. Cobb. "We won't need Reynolds. Porter's going to play!"
Mr. Cobb hurried across from the bench and nearly wrenched Roy's hand off.
"Doctor willing, is he? That's good! That's fine! Do your best, Porter, do your best. Eaton's a bit discouraged, but I tell him it's not over till the whistle—that is, till the umpire—er—Well, good luck!" And the coach hurried over to the scorer to arrange the new batting list.
"Come on, fellows!" cried Chub. "Let's win this old game right here!"
And Ferry Hill trotted out to the field for the first of the eighth.