The last of the sixth developed no runs for the Juniors, nor did the seventh add to the score of either side. In the eighth the White Sox captain got to third with two down and tried to tally on a bunt past the pitcher’s box. But shortstop ran in, scooped up the ball and nailed him a foot from the plate. The Juniors started their inning by a safe rap that placed Cantrell on first base. Myers sacrificed neatly and then the next man connected for a screeching liner that was too hot for the Sox second baseman and Cantrell scored the Juniors’ twelfth tally. But the score was still four runs to the advantage of the White Sox when Stone hit into a double and ended the inning.
Captain Humbleton pretended a confidence he didn’t feel and assured the team that all they had to do now was hold the Sox and then bat out a victory. It sounded easy, but Billy felt defeat impending. He tried to get a word with Arthur before that youth hurried off to his infield position, but failed. The White Sox started by putting their third baseman on first in consequence of Waldo Hutchins’ inability to pitch strikes. Then a bunt was mishandled by the catcher and there were runners on first and second, and things looked very bad. The next player was thrown out, but the others moved up a base apiece. The infield crept closer. The White Sox left fielder tried hard to slug, missed two and finally popped up a silly little foul that dropped comfortably in the catcher’s mitt, and the Junior nine’s adherents cheered loudly, Captain Ezra’s voice dominating all like a fog siren. There was another period of doubt and anxiety when, after knocking the ball everywhere save between the foul lines, the Sox first baseman finally whaled out a long, arching fly. The bases emptied and the runners scuttled home, but Leo Smith arose to the occasion like a veteran—which he was not—and pulled down the ball.
“Four to tie ’em and five to win!” shouted Arthur as he trotted in to the bench. “Come on now, fellows! Let’s get this! We can—— What is it, Billy? Don’t bother me now!”
“I’ve got to, Arthur,” said Billy firmly, a tight clutch on the captain’s arm. “You’ve got to listen a minute. If you want to win this you must let me bat, Arthur. I can’t help hitting with this bat, honest, and——”
“You’re up, Waldo! Work him for a base. Get it somehow!” Arthur tugged impatiently, but Billy held like glue. “You see, it’s a hoki-moki wood bat, Arthur, and hoki-moki wood has a—a infinity for horsehide. All you got to do is just swing the bat and the ball comes right up and hits it. It’s the greatest discovery of——”
“What are you talking about?” demanded the captain. “Let’s see your old bat. ‘Hoki-Moki Wood,’ eh?” he jeered. “Where’d you get this contraption?”
And, still holding him firmly, Billy told him, and in spite of his expression of incredulity Arthur was secretly a little bit impressed. “Oh, shucks,” he said, “I don’t believe it, Billy! It ain’t possible! ’Course, you might have luck——” He paused and frowned intently and then, with a short laugh, added: “Maybe I’ll give you a chance, Billy. We’ll see.”
Billy had to be content with that. Meanwhile Waldo Hutchins had waited and walked. An attempted sacrifice, however, failed to work and Waldo was cut off at second. The runner was safe on first. With one gone the audience began to disperse slowly. Then the Juniors’ right fielder landed squarely and rapped past third and hope crept back into the breasts of his team-mates. The departing onlookers paused in their flight. The Sox second baseman let the throw from the pitcher pass unchallenged over his head and the runners advanced to second and third. The cheering grew frantic. The coachers shouted and danced. “Slim” Gaynor did his best but only laid the ball down in front of the plate and was tagged out before he had taken two strides toward his base. Two on, now, and two gone!
Billy, his heart racing and jumping, watched Arthur anxiously. But Joe Ware was allowed to take his turn. Joe was an uncertain batter. The White Sox pitcher tempted him with a low one and with one on the outside, but Joe refused them. Then came a fast one that went as a strike. Then one that hit the dirt just back of the plate. The pitcher frowned and would have sent the next offering in the groove had not the catcher signalled for a pass. Joe walked to first, filling the sacks, and cheers filled the air. Arthur himself followed Joe Ware, and the bunt he trickled along the first base line was a veritable marvel, for it sent a tally across, moved runners from first and second and left Arthur himself safe on his bag!
But three runs were still needed to tie and four to win, and there were two gone. Billy arose, pale but resolved on sacrifice. He meant to offer the precious hoki-moki bat to Steve Sawyer, next up, but as he moved toward the plate Arthur, dusting himself on first, saw him and recalled that half promise. And perhaps he had what he would have called a “hunch.” At all events his voice reached Billy just as he was about to present the bat to Steve’s notice: