Neither dared look back up the track, but they could feel the rails pulse as the locomotive bore down upon them, while the screech of locked wheels was deafening. It seemed minutes before they managed to wrench the hand-car from the track, although it was in reality but a matter of seconds from the first warning blast to the instant that, pushing the hand-car down the slope beside the railway, the two boys literally threw themselves after it. There was a roar, a maelstrom of dust, the sound of releasing brake-shoes and the freight, gathering speed again, rushed by them.
Clank-clank! Thump-thump! Car after car went past while Dud and Jimmy, white-faced, breathless and trembling from their exertions, crouched in a tangle of bushes beside the half-overturned hand-car, deafened, choked and blinded with dust, shudderingly grateful for their escape.
Meanwhile, some two miles distant, Grafton and Mount Morris were battling valiantly on a sun-smitten diamond before the gaze of nearly a thousand excited spectators. The fourth inning was drawing to its close. It had been a slow contest, filled with anxious moments for both contenders. Every inning so far had seen runners on the bases and yet only one tally had been scored and that for the visitors. In the first of the second a pass had been followed by a clean hit and a bad error by Mount Morris’ second-baseman and Captain Murtha had dashed over the plate. But since then Saylor, for the Green-and-White, and Nate Leddy, pitching for the visitors, had managed to stave off runs, although more than once a hit would have spelled disaster. Neither Saylor nor Leddy had gone unpunished, for there had been hits aplenty for both teams, but neither Grafton nor Mount Morris had been able to hit safely when a hit would have meant a run. Errors had been frequent and each team had been about equally guilty, although the Green-and-White’s slip-ups had proved more costly. Now, with two down and Gordon on second, Nate Leddy was trying his hardest to solve the mysteries of the sharply-breaking deliveries of his rival. Here again a hit would send a tally across, and here again the hit was not forthcoming, for Nate, after getting Saylor in the hole, fouled off his second strike and then lifted a high one to first-baseman.
The fifth began with the tail-end of the Mount Morris batting list coming up and Leddy beginning to show wear. Strike-outs had been few and Nate had in nearly every case been obliged to serve at least seven balls. Mount Morris had displayed a positive passion for knocking fouls. Nate’s first two offerings were not good enough and the third went bounding off the batsman’s cudgel into the stand. Then came a third ball, and simultaneous with the umpire’s decision Ben Myatt left the bench and began to warm up with Brooks. Nate had to let that batter go. The next one flied out to Boynton. Then came another hit, the seventh for the home team, and first and second were occupied. Nate was slipping now and from the bench Coach Sargent was watching him as a cat watches a mouse. One ball—two balls—a strike—another ball—
Mr. Sargent arose and Guy Murtha hustled in from second to the mound. Back of first base Ben Myatt removed his coat and moved into the field. Nate passed him the ball and Ben clapped the other on the shoulder as he turned toward the bench.
“Myatt pitching for Grafton!” announced the umpire.
Weston had joined Brooks and was tossing the ball to him desultorily, his gaze on the diamond. The cheers from the visiting contingent died away and Ben took up the task. The batsman accepted the first ball and slammed it across the diamond to Nick Blake. Nick dashed to second and made the out, but the oncoming runner from first spoiled his throw and the double. Two down and men on first and third. But Ben had the situation in hand and the next batsman fouled out to Winslow.
Once more Grafton put runners on the bases, Winslow first, after Blake had retired by the strike-out route, and then Ordway, the latter beating out a bunt by a hair’s-breadth. But then Murtha, swinging like a Hercules, only succeeded in driving a liner into shortstop’s glove and Neil Ayer’s fly to right was an easy out.