by his ears had unnerved him.
Before he could summon back his heroic resolves Carter, with a sudden
jerk, delivered the ball. Involuntarily Stover stepped back, the ball
easily and slowly passed him and cut the corner of the plate.

"Ball three," said the umpire hesitatingly.

The Cleve catcher hurled his mask to the ground, Carter cast down his
glove and trod on it, while the second baseman fell on his bag and
wept.

When order was restored Stover dodged the fourth wild ball and went in
a daze to first, where to his amazement he was greeted with jubilant
cheers.

"You're the boy, Dinky."

"You've got an eye like Charlie DeSoto."

"They can't fool Rinky Dink."

"Why, he's a wonder."

"Watch him steal second."

Stover slapped his foot on first base with the joy of unhoped-for
victory. He glowered about his own possessions. The perspective had
suddenly changed; the field was open, all his, the Cleve House
representatives were a lot of dubs, butterfingers and fumblers,
anyhow! Under Cheyenne Baxter's directions he went plunging down to
second, slid, all arms and legs, safely on to the bag, thanks to a
wild pitch, and rose triumphantly, blowing the dust from his mouth.

There he remained, as Susie Satterly and Beekstein methodically struck
out.

But the joy of that double voyage was still on him as he went back to
centerfield, ready to master the hottest liner or retrieve the
sky-scraping fly. It was a great game. He felt a special aptitude for
it and wondered why he had never discovered the talent before. He
began to dream of sizzling two-baggers and long home-runs over the
fence.

"I wish I'd get a chance," he said, prancing about digging vicious
holes in the glove, that looked like a chest protector. "I'd show 'em
what I can do out here."

But no chance came. The battle was between pitchers, and to the
surprise of every one the Green House came up to the last inning with
the score of 2 to 1 in their favor, the solitary run of the Cleve
being due to a fly that Beekstein had failed to notice.

The Green House nine went jubilantly out into the field for the last
half of the ninth inning, determined to shut out the Cleve and end the
season with at least one victory.

Dink ran out on his tiptoes, encased himself in his mitt and turned,
tense and alert. He had gone through his first ordeal triumphantly. No
chances had come to him in the field, but at bat he had accidently
succeeded in being hit, and thoug