ugh Gardiner High School
was fitted for getting the only one or two runs that the game
would witness.

In the eighth, Gardiner got a second run, but that inning closed
with Gridley as much "stumped" as ever.

"Why play the ninth?" yelled one of the visitor fans. "Let's
go and drink tea. Gridley boys are nice little fellows, but-----"

"How's that wrist?" asked Captain Purcell, anxiously, as the players
changed places to begin the ninth. Coach Luce had stepped close,
too, and looked anxious.

"Just a bit lame, of course," Dick admitted. "But I'm going to
pull through."

"You're sure about it?" Purcell asked.

"Sure enough!"

The first Gardiner man to bat went out on the third ball sent
past him. Then a second. Now came Prendergast to the bat, blood
in his eye. He glared grimly at young Prescott, as though to
say:

"Now, I'll take it out of you for making a comedian of me the
first time I held the stick!"

Dick felt, somehow, that Prendergast would make good.

The first ball that Prescott put over the plate was a called strike.
At the second serve---

Crack! and Prendergast was running.

Dan Dalzell gauged the flight of that ball better than anyone
else on the diamond. He side-stepped like a flash, falling back
a couple of paces. Then pulling the leather down out of the air,
he leaped back to first. He was holding the ball in his left
hand when Prendergast, breathing fast, hopped at the bag.

"Runner out!" called Umpire Foley. Prendergast stamped back,
with a look of huge disgust. And now Gridley came in at the bat.

"It's no use! We're whipped!" That was the comment everywhere
as Gridley came in from the field prepared for a last effort.

Gridley's first and second men went bad---the first struck out,
and the second knocked a foul bit that was caught.

"Greg, you've got to go to bat next," whispered Dick to Holmes,
just a moment before. "Oh, _don't_ you strike out. Hit something
drive it somewhere. Remember Gridley can't and won't lose! Get
the Gridley spirit soaked into you instanter. Chase that leather
_somewhere_!"

Gardiner's pitcher, his face beaming, faced Holmes, whom he did
not regard as one of the team's heavyweights in batting skill.
Visiting fans were rising, preparing to leave the stand.

"Strike one!"

"There he goes!"

"Strike two!"

"It's all over."

Crack! Greg was off like a colt. Running was in his line. He
had swatted the ball somewhere over into l