sitively assured, Phil Springer slipped away and left the field.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A LOST OPPORTUNITY.

But the game was not to end there, for, although it continued to
sprinkle slightly at intervals, not enough rain fell to lead the umpire
into calling time. The playing continued, with both teams fighting
hard and wasting no opportunities after the conclusion of the fifth
inning.

Unaware of this, Springer, who had noted that by hurrying he might
possibly be able to catch the mid-afternoon train for the west, ran all
the way to the hotel, where a room had been provided for the use of the
visitors in changing their clothes, tore off his baseball suit, yanked
on his regular garments, and arrived, panting, at the station just in
time to swing onto the last car as the train was pulling out.

By this foolish action Phil lost a golden opportunity to put himself
"right" with his teammates.

For in the eighth inning, with the score 7 to 2 in favor of the
visitors, Clearport seemed at last to take Rodney Grant's measure, and,
aided by errors on the part of Oakdale, they went after him with a
fierceness that threatened to drive him off the slab. Eliot, becoming
alarmed, looked round for Springer, desiring him to warm up and make
ready.

All along the Oakdale captain had supposed Phil to be somewhere near at
hand, but now not a trace of him was to be discovered. Making an
excuse to do something to the catching mask, Eliot ran to the bench and
called Bunk Lander, who was watching the game from a position near by.

"Lander," said Roger swiftly, as he fussed with the mask, "where is
Springer? We need him--bad."

"I gotter idea," said Bunk, "that he's skipped. Saw him go out through
the gate in a mighty hurry at the end of the fifth."

"Skipped!" muttered Roger, paying no heed to the demands of the
Clearport crowd that he should play ball. "It can't be possible that
he---- Say, Lander, find Roy Hooker, quick. Tell him I want him on
the bench. If he's loyal to his school he'll come. I'll set him to
warming up, anyhow."

Bunk went searching for Hooker, and discovered him at the far end of
the right-field bleachers, talking with Herbert Rackliff.

"Hey, you, Hook!" called Lander. "Roge Eliot wants you to warm up, for
it looks like they're going to knock Grant into a cocked hat. They got
him goin' somethin' fierce. You gotter save this game for us--if you
can."

Hooker's face flushed and he caught his b