Dave's face wore a very broad grin.
But Mr. Perkins was speaking—"No, Dugan, you cannot continue to play," he said, firmly. "How is it, boys?—good—we don't want any rowdyism on this field."
There was a few minutes of silence. Grimshaw held a brief conference with his fellow players, then walked forward and called out in a loud voice, "Hello, Sanders, get down there to second and play the base."
It was a very willing boy that hurried forward to obey this summons, and Bill Dugan, thoroughly discomfited, almost immediately saw the game going on without him.
And the score still stood seven to six when the villagers came to bat in the ninth. It was their last chance, and they were determined to at least tie the score.
"My arm's getting kind of played out, Dave," whispered Bob. "I'll do what I can."
"You can't do any more," said the other, soothingly. "Make them hit it—we'll do the rest," and the stout boy grinned.
Clayton was the name of their opponents' first batsman. He came within one of striking out, then drove the ball over Havens' head and sprinted to second.
Loud cheers came from the spectators, and Bob looked worried.
"Don't let them get your nerve, old man," called Sam.