almost straight toward
second base. Norton was tearing for the plate when O'Neill, the
Jackrabbit second baseman, running across, leaped and stretched out one
hand. The ball stuck in his extended glove, he came down squarely on
second base and the triumphant scream of the crowd ended in a gasp of
disappointment at the realization that a double play had balked the
Bears' attack and ended the inning.

The Jackrabbits, aroused by their narrow escape, attacked with new
vigor. A fumble gave them the opening. Despite the most determined
efforts of Wilcox they forced a run across the plate and the Bears were
thrown back under a handicap.

McCarthy was the first batter. He crowded close to the plate,
determined to force the young pitcher to earn his victory. He refused
to hit until two strikes and three balls had been called, and then,
shortening his grip upon his bat, he hit the straight, fast ball
sharply to center for a base. Instead of sacrificing, Swanson received
orders to hit and run and, although he was thrown out at first base,
McCarthy reached second, and Babbitt, the first baseman, came to bat.
Hoskins appeared nervous. The strain was telling upon the youngster,
and Babbitt hit the first ball. From the sound of the bat hitting the
ball, McCarthy knew the hit was not on the ground, and as he started
homeward a glance showed him that Merode, the speedy little center
fielder, was running back into the deep field with his eye on the ball.
It was a fly-out unless Merode muffed, and McCarthy, knowing that such
a muff happens only four or five times a season, returned and perched
upon second base, ready to sprint for third the instant the ball struck
the fielder's hands. The thought flashed through his brain that the
Blues had released Merode because of a weak arm and a habit of lobbing
the ball back to the infielders instead of throwing it back with all
his power. The ball fell into the upstretched hands of the outfielder.
McCarthy leaped and raced for third base. He knew that Merode would
not throw there because of his weak arm and the length of the throw, so
he swung a little outside the base path, slowed up as he turned third,
and glanced toward the field. The ball was coming in. Merode had
thrown it slowly and carelessly toward the shortstop. McCarthy leaped
forward toward the plate. The shortstop, running out to meet the slow
throw, heard the cry of alarm from the fielders and the roar of
excitement