I knew only too well that it was fatal to give Arnold a good ball, so I tried to deceive him by making a swift motion and delivering a slow ball in front of the plate, hoping that he would strike over it. I threw it too far, however, and it proved to be a good ball directly over the plate. I saw Arnold set his lips, lean back, and then I knew what was coming. He struck the ball with a terrific crack and drove it far out over the center fielder’s head, where it rolled on toward the gate. My heart sank as I turned and gazed after it, for I saw there was no hope of recovering it before Arnold had encircled the bases. He made a home run, bringing in two men besides himself, and making the score 6–3 in their favor. It was with long faces and depressed spirits that we closed that inning.
“Well, boys,” said Ray, as we walked to our bench. “It was a bad turn, but we have four innings more and we can make it up. All the same, we don’t want to let it happen again.”
“No, indeed,” I answered; “another hit like that and we are gone coons.”
The spectators were growing alarmed as to the results of the game, and were quiet and serious. The few Park men who had accompanied the nine were, on the other hand, jubilant and noisy.
“See here, boys,” exclaimed Percy Randall, coming over from the side of the field where the Park men were ranged, “we want to lay these fellows out and no mistake. What do you think they have done? They’ve just sent a boy to the telegraph office with a message to Berkeley, ‘Score 6–3. Prepare dinner for the nine.’ I overheard them give the directions. How is that for cheek?”
Ray Wendell began to laugh.
“Well, it is a pity to disappoint them, but we’ll have to all the same,” he said. “Here, give me my bat and see me knock that dinner into a cocked hat.”
Ray fulfilled his prophecy by striking a two base hit. This was a cheerful start, and we succeeded in making two runs before the inning closed. The spirits of the spectators rose in proportion, and when we began the seventh inning with the score 6–5 in their favor the interest grew rapidly. To the delight of our friends we closed the Park men out without a run, and made one ourselves, thus tying the score.
The excitement was now intense, and remained so during the eighth inning, in which neither side made a run. The ninth inning was opened by Percy Randall, who made a single base hit. The two men that followed him were put out, but in the mean time, Percy, by his magnificent base running, had succeeded in reaching third base. There being two men out, Percy was on the alert for the least chance to run in home. In throwing the ball back to Arnold after the first pitch, the catcher of the Park nine made a slip, and the ball rolled several yards behind Arnold. Seizing this small opportunity, Percy suddenly dashed toward home.
It was an audacious move and altogether unexpected by Arnold. A cry from the catcher, however, warned him, and in an instant he had picked up the ball and hurled it to the home plate. There seemed to be no chance for Percy, but when he was within twelve feet of the base he threw himself headlong and slid into the home plate amidst a cloud of dust. It seemed almost the same instant that the catcher caught the ball and touched Percy.