The spectators were now fairly breathless with excitement. The score tied, and Readville at the bat for the last time.
Tom, whose turn it was, took his place amid encouraging shouts from his side. After a nervous “strike,” he made a good hit that carried him to second, where he seemed likely to be left, as the next two at the bat struck easy flies, and went out. It was Bert’s turn. Heretofore he had purposely struck out every time he came to the bat. Now his hands clenched the stick firmly, and he braced his feet as if he meant business. The crowd saw the slight movement, and cheered to encourage him.
“Strike one!” called the umpire, as the ball flew over the plate a little higher than Bert wanted it.
“Strike two!”
Still not just right. Bert waited calmly. The crowd were silent, and looked downcast. Suddenly they gave a wild cheer. Hats were flung into the air, and handkerchiefs waved. Bert had made a terrific hit, sending the ball far beyond the rightfielder. In another moment Tom had reached home, and scored the winning run—score, Readvilles, 9; Jamestowns, 8.
The great match was finished.
CHAPTER XII.
HUNTED TO EARTH.
AS soon as the excitement over the base-ball match had died away, Tom’s moodiness returned. It was now near the end of August, and the little party at the Pines began to show signs of breaking up. Kittie and her sister, with Tom, were to meet their father and mother at Portland on the twenty-fifth of the month, returning to Boston in season for school. Randolph, too, was due in the Latin School ranks on September fifth; Pet received a letter from her family, telling her to join them at the mountains at about the same time.
As the remaining days of vacation rapidly dwindled, the fun, on the contrary, increased. Bert Farnum had a long talk with Randolph, shortly after the match, and made a clean breast of his treachery, telling him how he had suffered from remorse at the unmanly part he had played in the earlier part of the great game, and how repentant he was for the whole affair. The result of this confession was that the two boys became firm friends, and Bert, in company with Dick Manning and a good-natured sister Polly, often joined the Bostonians in their mountain tramps, hay-cart rides, and other good times.
Old Sebattis and his wife were reported as encamped near the county road, fifteen miles away. Of course, nothing had been heard of the watch, the secret of its whereabouts being locked in the breast of one unhappy boy.