d after this first strike.

"Walking is easier than running, Spark," reminded Bart.

"Then I think I'll let you chase," said Dale. "I hope you chase the ball
instead of chasing round the bases."

Hodge was watching Dale's every movement. He saw Sparkfair hold the
ball, covered by his hands, close to his mouth. Evidently the pitcher
intended to use the spit ball. Nevertheless, something warned Bart that
Dale had turned the ball over and grasped the dry side. His pretense of
trying a spit ball was all a bluff.

Whiz! The ball came whistling from Spark's fingers.

Crack! Hodge met it fairly on the trade-mark.

Away, away, away sailed the sphere, passing far over the head of Thad
Barking, the center fielder, who had turned and was running as fast as
his legs would carry him.

Guy Featherstone and Booby Walker had paused at a distance to watch the
game a few moments.

Featherstone uttered a furious exclamation of anger.

"I'm glad he hit that ball, and yet it makes me mad!" he grated. "I
might have done the same myself. Just look at that--just look at it!
It's a home run! It ties the score!"

He was right.

CHAPTER IX.

SPARKFAIR'S HIT.

Sparkfair sat down on the pitcher's plate and watched Hodge circling the
bases.

"Hereafter," he observed, with a doleful grin, "I'll put my fielders
over in the next county when you come to bat."

Bart's hit reminded Dale of Dick Merriwell's first appearance at
Fardale. He recalled the fact that Dick had come to bat in the ninth
inning, with two men out, the bases full, and three runs needed to tie
the score. Merriwell managed to connect with the ball after two strikes
had been called. He drove it far over Barking's head, clearing the sacks
and coming home himself, thus winning the game by a single run.

That recollection was decidedly unpleasant to Spark.

"If I get to ruminating on such things, I'll spring a leak and weep real
tears," he muttered, as he rose to his feet.

From the distance, Guy Featherstone shouted:

"Yah! yah! You're not so much, Sparkfair! You're pie for a real batter!"

With this parting taunt, Feather took Booby Walker's arm and led him
away, both disappearing into the bathhouse.

Tommy Chuckleson was the next hitter to face Dale. "Why can't I do
something like that?" exclaimed Chuck. "If I could ever hit the ball
hard enough, you'd see me making a record round the bases!"

"Just set a few mice after you and you'd make a record, all