aste a curve high and outside the plate. The boy, his
teeth set, waded into the ball, drove it over third for a base hit,
and, with runners on first and third, Swanson came rushing up and drove
a line single to left that scored Kennedy and sent the speedy little
McBeth scurrying around to third.

McCarthy was coming to bat. He swung two bats, testing their weight,
and walked toward the plate. The excitement of the rally had revived
his waning strength and stirred his jaded nerves. Swanson signaled his
intention to steal on the first ball pitched. McCarthy crouched, and
as the ball came he swung viciously at it, not intending to hit it, but
to give Swanson the advantage by hampering the catcher. The strike was
wasted, as the catcher, knowing the speed of McBeth, bluffed at
throwing, and held the ball, hoping to lure the substitute off third
base and let Swanson reach second without trouble.

The next ball McCarthy fouled against the stands for a second strike.
A great dread came over him as he heard the roar of the crowd. He
turned to watch the Blue's catcher recover the ball, and at that
instant he saw the face of Betty Tabor, strained, white, beseeching, as
the girl, still mud-splattered and stained from the long race, leaned
forward. Her face revealed all the hopes and fears that surged within
her. As McCarthy's heart leaped with grim resolve he saw another face
that caused him to step back out of the batter's box and, while
pretending to rub dirt upon his hands, to glance again.

James Lawrence, his uncle and guardian, was sitting in the box next to
that in which Betty Tabor was voicelessly beseeching him to win the
game.

"Hit it, Larry--hit it!"

The sound of the name called by the familiar voice, the sight of the
agony in the girl's face, spurred him to desperation. He delayed,
wiped his hands carefully, stepped into position and waited. Wiley
wound up. A fast curve flashed toward the plate. McCarthy took one
step forward, snapped his bat against the ball. The Blues' third
baseman leaped wildly, stuck up one hand, the ball went on, struck two
feet inside the foul line, and before it ceased rolling around the
stands two runs were across the plate. McCarthy was on third, and the
Bears were in the lead.

The inning ended with McCarthy still on third, and the score 3 to 2 in
favor of the Bears.

Wilcox, who had been kept warmed up during the entire game, ready to
rush to the slab if Williams we