Carthy
sprinted for second base. An instant of tense uncertainty was followed
by a swelling murmur of protest, disappointment and rage.

From the dust cloud just commencing to settle around second base two
forms were emerging, and, as the dust drifted away, the crowd had a
glimpse of a tableau. Tommy Meegher, second baseman of the Panthers,
was disentangling his stocky form from the knot of arms and legs, and
arising from the prostrate body of McCarthy, whose desperate slide had
turned a base hit into a two-bagger. Stooping over them, his hands
outspread, signifying that the runner had reached the base in safety,
was Randy Ransom, crouching, in order better to see under the dust
cloud raised by the hurtling bodies of the players.

A salvo of grudging applause greeted McCarthy as he arose and brushed
the dust from his gray striped traveling uniform, an outburst that was
followed by a frenzied spasm of enthusiasm from the Bear followers.

On the Bears' bench Manager Clancy grinned for the first time in three
days.

"I believe that kid will do," he said to Kennedy. "He called the turn
on that fast ball, just met it, and turned first on his stride. He
slid under Meegher clean. Lay one down now," he added, addressing the
order to Norton.

The skill of Noisy Norton as a sacrifice hitter was well known to the
spectators in the stands, but better known to the tense, anxious
infielders of the Panthers, who crouched, watching his every motion as
he came to the batter's position. Norton stepped into position,
shortened his hold upon the bat and glanced quickly around the infield
as if noting the position of each man. Suddenly he started, as if in
surprise, and glanced toward the Bears' bench. Manager Clancy nodded
his head affirmatively and again Norton crouched, shortening his grip
upon the bat still more, and slowly churned the inoffensive air with
it. The Panther infielders, alert to detect the plan of attack to be
tried by the Bears, had caught the rapid exchange of glances, and they
crept a step or two closer to the batter, poising ready to leap forward
to field any ball pushed toward them from Norton's bat.

The plan of assault to be tried seemed clear to the thousands of
spectators. It appeared certain that a sacrifice bunt was to be
attempted; that the third baseman of the Panthers was to pretend to
field the ball, but that, instead, he would return to third base the
moment Norton bunted, permitting Cooke