Dick, as he struck first and turned, took a fleeting look at the North’s right fielder, still in pursuit of the long fly that had gone by him and was rolling over the field.  Then, straining lungs and nerves, Dick sprinted toward the second bag.

“Go it!  Hustle!”

Behind him Dick heard the whistle of the coming ball.  Just ahead of him was the plate.  He took a long leap, then slid.  Second baseman held up the ball in his right hand.

“Safe, safe!” yelled the gleeful Central spectators.

“Out!  That was out!” hoarsely declared the boosters for the North Grammars.

“Safe at second,” called Ben Tozier steadily.

“Oh, you ape of an umpire!” grunted Hi Martin disgustedly, as he mitted the ball from second.  For an instant he watched Dick, who was edging away from second.  Then he turned to send in a drive past Greg, who now hovered over the plate.

Greg Holmes went to two strikes and three balls, Hi all the time alertly watching Prescott at second.

Crack!  And now Greg was running.  Norths’ left-fielder muffed the ball, then recovered and threw like a flash to third.  But Dick was there a shade of a second ahead of the leather.

“Safe” declared the umpire.

Hi Martin flashed a warning look at the catcher for his nine, then sent a sweeping glare around the bases.  Greg and Dick smiled sweetly back.

“Play ball!” ordered Umpire Tozier.

Dan Dalzell was now at bat, tingling with anxiety, though his grin seemed a yard wide.

“Oh, you Danny Grin!  Eat the leather!” appealed a Central rooter from the side.

Dan grinned again, his look seeming to say, “Watch me!”

Two strikes, with no called balls.  Dick, dancing away from third, felt himself on tenterhooks.  Not all of his perspiration was due to the heat of the day.

Again Dan offered.  Crack!  A wild, gleeful whoop went up from some of the Central rooters, while others held their breath.  The ball went high, and right field came running in for it.  As it happened, the fielder underestimated the length of the flight.  It struck the ground to his rear and rolled.  Before the outfielder could pick it up Dan had kicked the first bag.

“Prescott!  Prescott!”

Dick was in, scoring the first run, while Greg was at second, and Dan hugging first as though he dared not be found two yards away from that bag.

Henderson now went to bat, accompanied by the grave anxiety of the members of his nine, for Spoff was not one of the star players.  True to expectations Spoff struck out.

“Do it, Hazelton!  You’ve got to do it!” yelled the Central fans despairingly.  “Don’t miss any tricks!”

Harry, however, could find nothing safe to hit at.  He took first on called balls, advancing Greg to third and Dan to second.

Wrecker Lane now swung the willow.  On his face was a do-or-die, dogged expression.  Wrecker was not a brilliant player, though he was one to whom defeat came hard.