A groan went up when Duncan lifted a high fly to centre field, which was caught easily. But Melvin sent a sizzling liner to left, just inside third, and made two bases on it. And the yells were deafening, when Ward advanced him to third, by a fierce grounder to short, that was too hot to hold.
“Rushton! Rushton!” they shouted, as Fred came to bat after Tom had gone out on a foul. “Hit it on the trademark!” “Give it a ride!” “Win your own game!”
The first ball was a deceptive drop, but Fred did not “bite.” The second was a low fast one, about knee high, just the kind he was accustomed to “kill.”
With a mighty swing he caught it fair “on the seam.” It rose like a shot and soared into centre field, far over the fielder’s head.
Melvin and Ward came in, tying the score, and Fred, who had gone around the bases like a deer, made it a home run by just beating the ball on a headlong slide to the plate.
Rally Hall promptly went raving mad.
There was still one more chance for the Mount Vernon lads, and their best hitters were coming on. But Fred was on his mettle now, and put every ounce of his strength and cunning into his pitching. They simply could not hit his slants. The first went out on strikes, Ward made a dazzling catch of a hot liner, and, when Melvin, after a long run, caught a high foul close to the left field bleachers, the game was over, with the score three to two in favor of Rally Hall.
It was a hilarious crowd that met the team at Green Haven when the train pulled in. The whole nine had played well, and all came in for their share of the ovation, though the Rushton brothers were regarded as having carried off the honors of the game.
“Do you know what pleased me most of all?” asked Fred of Melvin.
“That home run you made, I suppose,” answered the other.