to first base. Then, as the Natchez crowd opened up in shrill
clamor, the impending disaster fell. Dundon hit a bounder down into
the infield. The ball appeared to be endowed with life. It bounded
low, then high and, cracking into Grace's hands, bounced out and rolled
away. The runners raced around the bases.

Pickens sent up a tremendous fly, the highest ever batted on Madden's
Hill. It went over Tom Lindsay in center field, and Tom ran and ran.
The ball went so far up that Tom had time to cover the ground, but he
could not judge it. He ran round in a little circle, with hands up in
bewilderment. And when the ball dropped it hit him on the head and
bounded away.

"Run, you Injun, run!" bawled Bo. "What'd I tell you? We ain't got
'em goin', oh, no! Hittin' 'em on the head!"

Bill dropped a slow, teasing ball down the third-base line. Jake
Thomas ran desperately for it, and the ball appeared to strike his
hands and run up his arms and caress his nose and wrap itself round his
neck and then roll gently away. All the while, the Natchez runners
tore wildly about the bases and the Natchez supporters screamed and
whistled. Muck Harris could not bat, yet he hit the first ball and it
shot like a bullet over the infield. Then Slugger Blandy came to the
plate.

The ball he sent out knocked Grace's leg from under him as if it were a
ten-pin. Whisner popped a fly over Tay Tay Mohler's head. Now Tay Tay
was fat and slow, but he was a sure catch. He got under the ball. It
struck his hands and jumped back twenty feet up into the air. It was a
strangely live ball. Kelly again hit to shortstop, and the ball
appeared to start slow, to gather speed with every bound and at last to
dart low and shoot between Grace's legs.

"Haw! Haw!" roared Bo. "They've got a hole at short. Hit fer the
hole, fellers. Watch me! Jest watch me!"

And he swung hard on the first pitch. The ball glanced like a streak
straight at Grace, took a vicious jump, and seemed to flirt with the
infielder's hands, only to evade them.

Malloy fouled a pitch and the ball hit Sam Wickhart square over the
eye. Sam's eye popped out and assumed the proportions and color of a
huge plum.

"Hey!" yelled Blandy, the rival catcher. "Air you ketchin' with yer
mug?"

Sam would not delay the game nor would he don the mask.

Daddy sat hunched on his soap-box, and, as in a hateful dream, he saw
his famous team go to pieces. He put his hands over