a certain rough-and-ready
type which made their joshing apt to carry more sting than that sort of
thing usually does. So far, however, there had been little in the
pitcher's manner or behavior for them to take hold of, and the stream
of commonplace chatter and joking seemed to affect Ranny as little as
water does a duck. He took it carelessly, with now and then an apt retort
which turned the laugh against the other fellows, and throughout the
sixth and seventh innings his work continued to show much of the smooth
perfection it had displayed from the first.

It was in the beginning of the eighth that Tompkins's face began to grow
a little troubled. Ranny had several rather noticeable mannerisms, which
were especially apt to appear on the flood-tide of success. Whether
deliberately or not, he had hitherto suppressed them, but now he seemed
momentarily to relax his vigilance.

He had struck out the first batter, and as the second stepped up to
face him the pitcher paused, swept the grand stand with a leisurely
glance, and then tossed back his head in an odd, rather affected gesture
before starting to wind up. The gesture had probably originated on
the gridiron, where hair is worn rather long and is apt to trail into
one's eyes; here it looked a bit foolish, and instantly one of the
opposition, who was coaching at first base, a red-headed fellow named
Conners, seized upon it.

"See him shake his mane, fellows!" he yelled in a shrill falsetto. "Don't
let him scare you, Blakie; he's tame!"

"He'll be the goat, all right, before we get done with him," chimed in
another.

Ranny hesitated an instant in his swing, bit his lips, and then put the
ball over. It was wide, and, as he caught the return, there was an angry
flush on his handsome face.

"Don't he blush sweetly?" shrilled Conners, dancing about off first.
"He'd make a peach of a girl!"

Ranny wound up hastily and pitched again. It was a straight, speedy
ball, but in his annoyance he must have forgotten that this was just
the sort Blake liked. The latter met it squarely with a clean crack
that brought Dale's heart into his mouth and jerked him to his feet to
watch with tight lips and despairing eyes the soaring flight of the
white sphere over the diamond and on--on--seemingly to the very limits
of the outfield!

CHAPTER XVII

DALE'S CHANCE

To Tompkins, watching with bated breath and clenched fists, it seemed as
if the ball would never drop. Two of th