he catcher,
but not to touch the ball.

Frank pretended to cling close to first, but he was watching for
Coulter's slightest preliminary motion in the way of delivery. It came,
and Old Put yelled from the coach line, where he had replaced Griswold:

"Gear!"

Frank got a beautiful start, and Blossom made a break for third. If
Blossom had secured a lead equal to Merriwell's he would have made third
easily. As it was, the catcher snapped the ball down with a short-arm
throw, and Blossom was caught by a foot.

Then it was Harvard's turn, and the Cambridge lads made the most of it.
A great roar went up, and the crimson seemed to be fluttering
everywhere.

"Har-vard! Har-vard! Har-vard! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'Rah!
'rah! 'rah! Harvard!"

One strike and one ball had been called on the batter, and Merriwell
was on second, with one man out. Yale was still longing vainly for
scores. It began to look as if they would still be held down, and
Coulter was regaining his confidence.

Frank was aware that something sensational must be done to keep Coulter
on the string. He longed for an opportunity to steal third, but knew he
would receive a severe call down from Old Put if he failed. Still he was
ready to try if he found the opportunity.

Frank took all the lead he could secure, going up with the shortstop
every time the second baseman played off to fill the right field gap. He
was so lively on his feet that he could go back ahead of the baseman
every time, and Coulter gave up trying to catch him after two attempts.

Frank took all the ground he could, and seeing the next ball was an
outdrop he legged it for third.

"Slide! slide! slide!" howled the astonished Halliday, who was still on
the coach line at third.

Frank obeyed, and he went over the ground as if he had been greased for
the occasion. He made the steal with safety, having a second to spare.

Rattleton lost his breath yelling, and the entire Yale crowd howled as
one man. The excitement was at fever pitch.

Bob Collingwood was gasping for breath, and he caught hold of Paul
Pierson, shouting in his ear:

"What do you think of that?"

"Think of it?" returned Pierson. "It was a reckless piece of work, and
Merriwell would have got fits if he'd failed."

"But he didn't fail."

"No; that lets him out. He is working to rattle Coulter, but he took
desperate chances. I don't know but it's the only way to win this game."

"Of course it is."

"Merr