t
his hands. He wheeled, bolted after the ball, got it and made
a throw to the catcher.

Out of the corner of his eyes, young Prescott saw the arching
ball descend, a good throw and a true one.

Yet, ere it landed in the catcher's hand, Dick, by the fraction
of a second, had sprinted desperately across the home plate.

"Runner safe home!"

"Whoo-oopee! Wow! wow! wow!" rang the chorus of thousands.

"Four to two!"

"What about Gridley, _now_?"

"What about Dick Prescott?"

Then words were lost in volleys of cheers. The Gardiner fans
who had risen to cheer slipped dejectedly down from the stand.

And Dick Prescott?

While running he had given no thought to his knee.

Now, as he dashed across the plate, and heard the umpire's decision,
he tried to stop, but slipped and went down. He tried to rise,
but found it would be better to sit where he was.

The game was over. Gridley, having made the winning runs in the
last half of the ninth, the rules of the game forbade any further
attempts to pile up score.

One of the first of the great crowd to leap over into the field
and cross the diamond was Coach Luce. He ran straight to the
young pitcher's side, kneeling close by him.

"You've given your knee a fearful twist, Prescott. I could see
it," said Luce sympathetically.

"What do I care?" Dick called back, his face beaming. "The score's
safe, isn't it?"

Had it not been for the state of his knee Prescott would have
been snatched up by a dozen hands and rushed across the field
in triumph. But Mr. Luce waved them all back. Dick's father
and mother came hurrying across the field to see what was wrong
with their boy.

"Let me lean on you as I get up, Mr. Luce," begged Dick, and the
coach was only too quick to help the boy to his feet. Then, with
the aid of Luce's arm, Dick was able to show his parents that
he could walk without too much of a limp.

"You did it for us, Dick, old boy!" greeted Captain Purcell, as
soon as he could get close.

"Did I?" snorted the young pitcher. "I thought there were four
of us in it, with five others helping a bit."

"It was the crack you gave that ball that brought us in," glowed
Purcell. "Gracious, I don't believe that Gardiner pitcher was
ever stung as badly as that before!"

The band was playing, now. As the strain stopped, and the young
pitcher came across the field, leaning now on Dave Darrin's arm,
the music crashed out again into "Hail to the Chief!