tly, and met it squarely.

The ball flew safely over short, and but for a fine sprint and stop by
the left fielder, would have resulted in a triple, possibly a home run.
As it was, Burns and Huling scored; and Wayne, by a slide, reached
second base. When he arose and saw the disorderly riot, and heard the
noise of that well-dressed audience, he had a moment of exultation.
Then Wells flew out to center ending the chances for more runs.

As Wayne received the ball in the pitcher's box, he paused and looked
out across the field toward a white-crowned motor car, and he caught a
gleam of Dorothy Huling's golden hair, and wondered if she were glad.

For nothing short of the miraculous could snatch this game from him
now. Burns had withstood a severe pounding, but he would last out the
inning, and Wayne did not take into account the rest of the team. He
opened up with no slackening of his terrific speed, and he struck out
the three remaining batters on eleven pitched balls. Then in the rising
din he ran for Burns and gave him a mighty hug.

"You made the gamest stand of any catcher I ever pitched to," he said
warmly.

Burns looked at his quivering, puffed, and bleeding hands, and smiled
as if to say that this was praise to remember, and reward enough. Then
the crowd swooped down on them, and they were swallowed up in the
clamor and surge of victory. When Wayne got out of the thick and press
of it, he made a bee line for his hotel, and by running a gauntlet
managed to escape.

Resting, dressing, and dining were matters which he went through
mechanically, with his mind ever on one thing. Later, he found a dark
corner of the porch and sat there waiting, thinking. There was to be a
dance given in honor of the team that evening at the hotel. He watched
the boys and girls pass up the steps. When the music commenced, he
arose and went into the hall. It was bright with white gowns, and gay
with movement.

"There he is. Grab him, somebody," yelled Huling.

"Do something for me, quick," implored Wayne of the captain, as he saw
the young people wave toward him.

"Salisbury is yours tonight," replied Huling

"Ask your sister to save me one dance."

Then he gave himself up. He took his meed of praise and flattery, and
he withstood the battery of arch eyes modestly, as became the winner of
many fields. But even the reception after the Princeton game paled in
comparison with this impromptu dance.

She was here. Alwa