ght the second runner home. Following
that the next batter went out on strikes.

In the Philadelphia half of the inning young Burt was the first man up.
He stood left-handed at the plate and looked formidable. Duveen, the
wary old pitcher for New York, to whom this new player was an unknown
quantity, eyed his easy position as if reckoning on a possible
weakness. Then he took his swing and threw the ball. Burt never moved
a muscle and the umpire called strike. The next was a ball, the next a
strike; still Burt had not moved.

"Somebody wake him up!" yelled a wag in the bleachers. "He's from
Slumbertown, all right, all right!" shouted another.

Duveen sent up another ball, high and swift. Burt hit straight over the
first baseman, a line drive that struck the front of the right-field
bleachers.

"Peacherino!" howled a fan.

Here the promise of Burt's speed was fulfilled. Run! He was fleet as a
deer. He cut through first like the wind, settled to a driving strides
rounded second, and by a good, long slide beat the throw in to third.
The crowd, who went to games to see long hits and daring runs, gave him
a generous hand-clapping.

Old Well-Well appeared on the verge of apoplexy. His ruddy face turned
purple, then black; he rose in his seat; he gave vent to smothered
gasps; then he straightened up and clutched his hands into his knees.

Burt scored his run on a hit to deep short, an infielder's choice, with
the chances against retiring a runner at the plate. Philadelphia could
not tally again that inning. New York blanked in the first of the
next. For their opponents, an error, a close decision at second
favoring the runner, and a single to right tied the score. Bell of New
York got a clean hit in the opening of the fifth. With no one out and
chances for a run, the impatient fans let loose. Four subway trains in
collision would not have equalled the yell and stamp in the bleachers.
Maloney was next to bat and he essayed a bunt. This the fans derided
with hoots and hisses. No team work, no inside ball for them.

"Hit it out!" yelled a hundred in unison.

"Home run!" screamed a worshipper of long hits.

As if actuated by the sentiments of his admirers Maloney lined the ball
over short. It looked good for a double; it certainly would advance
Bell to third; maybe home. But no one calculated on Burt. His
fleetness enabled him to head the bounding ball. He picked it up
cleanly, and checking his headlong