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“Now for a home run, Jack!”

“Soak it out over the bleachers!”

“Show the Hixley boys what we can do!”

“Give him a swift one, Dink! Don’t let him hit it!”

“Oh, dear, I do hope Jack scores!” came in a sweet, girlish voice.

“Of course he’ll score!” returned a youth sitting near the girl who had made the remark. “He’s been holding back for just this chance.”

“Oh, do you think so?” asked another girl in the grandstand.

“Surest thing ever was,” was the airy rejoinder. “This is the time we’re going to show the Hixley boys what’s what.”

“Not on your life!” bellowed a heavy voice from the rear. “Here is where Colby Hall gets snowed under.”

Then came a series of yells, followed by the tooting of horns and the sounding of rattles, making a din that was almost ear-splitting.

The occasion was the annual baseball game between Hixley High and Colby Hall. It had been scheduled to take place on the high-school athletic field, but at almost the last minute this field had been declared out of condition, and it had been decided to hold the contest on the athletic grounds attached to the military academy.

Hixley High was very anxious to win this game. During the previous fall, as related in a former volume of this series, the high-school lads had lost the annual football game with Colby Hall by a single touchdown. This defeat still rankled in their minds, and they were determined if possible to take the baseball game by a score that should be well worth while.

And they had good reason to be hopeful of doing this. While their football team had always been considered by the other teams of that locality to be of the “second string variety,” the baseball nine was a remarkably strong organization. At its head was Dink Wilsey, a pitcher who was destined at some time in the future to show himself in one of the big leagues.

“Why, Dink alone can walk off with that game,” was the way more than one Hixley High student had expressed himself.

But more than this—Hixley High had an exceptionally good first baseman and a trio of outfielders whose batting average was high.

“We’re going to put it all over Colby Hall this trip,” was the way the manager of the Hixley High ball club declared himself on the day previous to the match.

The game was now at the second half of the sixth inning, and the score stood, Hixley High, 4; Colby Hall, 2. Colby Hall was at the bat with two men out and one man at second.

It was therefore no wonder that the military academy students became anxious when Jack Rover took up his bat and walked to the plate. A home run would mean the tying of the score, and with a chance to do even better.

“Take your time, Jack,” said Gif Garrison, who was the manager of the nine. “Make him give you a ball just where you want it.”

“Watch yourself!” yelled one of the coaches to the runner at second, for the Hixley High pitcher had suddenly whirled around, sending the ball down to the second baseman. There was a quick drop by the runner, and he escaped getting caught by a few inches only.

“Close shave! Watch yourself, Dan!” yelled Gif Garrison; and Dan Soppinger, at second, nodded to show that he understood, and then danced away in the direction of third base as before.

The first ball pitched to Jack Rover was a slow in-curve, and he stepped back and allowed it to pass him.

“Ball one!”

At this decision a howl of delight went up from the followers of Colby Hall, while a corresponding groan came from Hixley High.

“That’s the eye!”

“Better get a pair of glasses!”

“Sure! The umpire must be blind! That was a perfect ball!”

“Sure it was a perfect ball! That’s the reason he called it a ball!” came from Andy Rover, who sat on the substitutes’ bench.

The second ball delivered was a fairly good one, although rather low. Jack swung at it, and high into the air spun the sphere, well back of the catcher’s head.

“Foul!”

“Run, Billy, you can catch it!”

Flinging off his mask, the Hixley High catcher rushed back toward where the ball was coming down. But it was too far away for him, and it struck slantingly on one of the back posts, rolling off toward the grandstand.

“Line it out, Jack! Don’t be fooling with fouls!” yelled Fred Rover.

“Show ’em where the river is!” added Randy Rover.

The next ball to come in was a wide out-curve, and again Jack let it pass him.

“Ball two!” shouted the umpire.

“That’s the way to do it, Jack! Make ’em give you what you want!”

With two balls against him, the noted pitcher for the high school exercised a little more care in his next delivery. He sent in a straight, swift one, directly over the outer point of the plate. It was not exactly what Jack desired, but it was good enough, and he swung at it with all his strength. Crack! And the ball went sailing directly over the head of the shortstop and into the field beyond.

“Run, Jack! Run! It’s good for a two-bagger!”

“Leg it, Dan! Leg it for home!”

“Send the ball in, Wiffles! Don’t let ’em get home!”

These and a hundred other cries rang out as nearly every spectator sprang to his or her feet in the excitement. Dan Soppinger, half way to third when Jack made the hit, had now touched that bag and was tearing for the home plate.

In the meantime Jack, running like a deer, had passed first and was making for second. The shortstop had made a high but ineffectual jump for the ball, and now he and the fielder behind him were both after the sphere. There was a short mix-up, and then the fielder sent the ball with unerring aim toward the catcher at the home plate.

“Slide, Dan, slide!”

And then Dan Soppinger, running as he had never run before, dropped down and slid to the plate amid a whirl of dust, followed instantly by the ball, which landed with a thud in the catcher’s mitt.

“He’s safe! He’s safe!”

“And look! Jack Rover is going to make third!”

Realizing that it was too late to catch the man at the plate, the catcher threw the ball down to second. But Jack Rover had already started for third, and now he streaked along with all his might, arriving at that bag just an instant before the ball followed him.

“That’s the way to do it, boy! Keep it up!”

“Oh, he made three bases!” cried one of the girls in the grandstand. “Isn’t that just lovely?”

“I told you he’d do it, Ruth,” said another of the girls.

“I wish my cousin Dick was coming up,” remarked one of the girls. “I’m sure he would be able to help them out.”

“Never mind, May. He’ll be coming up pretty soon,” answered Ruth Stevenson.

The next cadet to the bat was Walt Baxter. Walt was a good all-around player, but just at present he was not in the best of condition, having suffered from a touch of the grippe early in the season.

“Bang out a homer, Walt!” sang out Andy Rover.

“Never mind that, Walt. Make a safe hit and bring Jack in,” said Gif Garrison.

“I’ll do my best,” answered Walt Baxter. But it was plainly to be seen that his recent illness had rendered him somewhat nervous. He had a ball and a strike called on him, and then got another strike through a little foul that passed over one of the coaches’ heads. Then Dink Wilsey passed him a slow, tantalizing ball. Walt connected with it but sent up only a pop fly, which the third baseman gathered in with ease.

“Hurrah! that’s the way to hold ’em down,” came the cry from one of the high-school boys.

“Gee, old man, it’s too bad you didn’t have a chance to bring that run in,” remarked Gif Garrison to Jack Rover, as the latter walked in from third base.

“Well, anyway, I brought Dan in,” returned Jack, as cheerfully as he could.

“Yes; but if you had got in that would have tied the score,” went on the manager. “However, the game isn’t over yet.”

“Over! Why, we’ve just begun to play!” returned Jack, with a grin.

“That’s the talk!” cried Andy Rover. “Colby Hall forever! Now then, boys, all together!” he yelled, turning to the grandstand. And a moment later there boomed out this refrain:

“Who are we?

Can’t you see?

Colby Hall!

Dum! Dum! Dum, dum, dum!

Here we come with fife and drum!

Colby! Colby! Colby Hall!”

And then followed a great yelling and tooting of horns and sounding of rattles.

“My gracious! if they keep on I’ll surely become deaf,” said Martha Rover.

“I think I had better retire from this game,” remarked Walt Baxter, as he faced the manager. “I told you I didn’t feel like going in, and now I am sure I should have kept out of it.”

“All right, Walt. I’ll be sorry to lose you,” answered Gif. And then he told Andy Rover to get ready to get into the game.

With a score still 4 to 3 in their favor, Hixley High opened the seventh inning with vigor. They managed to get a man on first, and then on a sacrifice advanced him to second. Then came a two-bagger, and the play made by Colby Hall in the ending of the sixth inning was repeated by their opponents, thus making the score 5 to 3.

On their part Colby Hall tried its best to score during the seventh, but was doomed to disappointment.

Then came the eighth inning with a goose egg placed on the board for each nine.

“Say, this begins to look bad for us,” remarked Will Hendry, the fattest boy at Colby Hall. “It looks as if Hixley High was going to have a sweet revenge.”

In the Hixley High half of the ninth inning Dink Wilsey showed what a very good all-around player he was. The noted pitcher cracked out a home run, making the tally with ease. Fortunately this was at a time when there was no one on base, so that only one run was scored. Two men were out, and the next player knocked a fly to short, which was gathered in by Frank Newberry with ease.

“Hurrah! Score another for Hixley High!”

“That makes the score six to three!”

“I guess this game is as good as won!”

So the cries ran on among the high-school scholars and their friends. The Colby Hall contingent was, of course, much downcast, but they refused to show it, and once more the slogan of the military academy boomed forth.

“Now, boys, pull yourselves together and go at ’em hammer and tongs,” cried Gif Garrison. “Watch the pitcher. Don’t let Dink put anything over you.”

Fred Rover was at the bat, and he managed to make a safe hit. He was followed by a player who made another safe hit, thus advancing Fred to second. Then came two outs, but in the mix-up Fred managed to steal to third, while the player on first got down to second. Jack Rover was now once more to the bat, and all of his friends were yelling at the top of their lungs for him to “Knock the hide off the ball!” “Send it over the back fence!” “Show ’em where the other side of the river is!” and to “Wipe up the field with Hixley High!”

One ball was called, and then a strike. Then came another strike, and things began to look gloomy for Colby Hall. But then Jack got a ball exactly where he wanted it, and he swung at it with every ounce of muscle he could command. Crack! went the bat, and the sphere went sailing far down in left field.

“That’s the way to do it! Run, boys, run!”

“Come on home, Jack!”

Fred, on third, was already streaking for home, and close behind him came the player who had been on second. In the meanwhile, Jack raced to first and around to second, and then came plowing up to third.

“Hold it, Rover! Hold it!”

“Come on in—don’t wait! Come on in!”

Jack looked down into the field and saw that the fielder was just in the act of picking up the ball. With a great bound, he started for the home plate, and when ten feet from that place dropped to the ground and slid in with the rapidity of lightning.

“He’s safe! A home run!”

“That ties the score!”

“Now then, boys, go in and finish ’em up!”

The din and excitement was now tremendous. The score was indeed a tie. Which club would win?

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