ndy had his doubts as to the wisdom of this, but it was too late to
change for Dunk was winding up for his delivery. A moment later he sent
in the ball with vicious force. Andy had put out his hands to gather it
into his big mitt, but it was not to be.

With a resounding thud the bat met the ball squarely and sent it over
center field in a graceful ascending curve that bid fair to carry it far.

"Oh, what a pretty one!"

"Right on the nose!"

"Didn't he swat it! Go on, you beggar! Run! Run!"

"Make it a home run!"

The crowd of Princeton adherents had leaped to their feet, and were
cheering like mad.

"Go on, old man!"

"Take another base. He can't get it!"

"Go to third!"

"Come on home!"

The centerfielder had been obliged to run back after the far-knocked
ball. It was seen that he could not possibly get under it, but he might
field it home in time to save a score.

The runner, going wildly, looked to get a signal from the coach. He
received it, in a hasty gesture, telling him to stay at third. He
stayed, panting from his speed, while the Princeton lads kept up their
cheering.

"Now will you feed us some more of those hot cross buns?" cried a wag to
Dunk.

"Make him eat out of the bean trough!"

"He's got a glass arm!"

"Swat it, Kelly! A home run and we'll score two!"

This was cried to the next man up. Dunk looked at Andy and shrugged his
shoulders. His guessing had not been productive of much good to Yale,
for the first man had gotten just the kind of a ball he wanted. Dunk
made up his mind to be more wary.

"Play for the runner," Andy signaled to his chum, meaning to make an
effort to kill off the run, and not try to get the batsman out in case
of a hit.

"All right," Dunk signaled back.

"Ball one!" howled the umpire, after the first delivery.

"That's the way! Make him give you a nice one."

"Take your time! Wait for what you want!" This was the advice given the
batter.

And evidently the man at the plate got the sort of ball he wanted, for
he struck at and hit the next one--hit it cleanly and fairly, and it
sailed out toward left field.

"Get it!" cried the Yale captain.

The fielder was right under it--certainly it looked as though he could
not miss. The batsman was speeding for first, while the man on third was
coming home, and the crowd was yelling wildly.

Andy had thrown off his mask, and was waiting at home for the ball, to
kill off the player speeding in from third.