New England League. Although Makune was not
a heavy hitter, he had done remarkable work for the first of the season,
and Dayguild was afraid of him. With the ball under his arm, the
Rockland pitcher turned to observe the positions of the men in the
field. His back was toward McDornick.

There was a shout of warning from the crowd, and Dayguild whirled to see
a figure in crimson shooting toward the plate like a streak of fire.

It was McDornick attempting to steal home!

The nerve of the act dazed Dayguild for a moment, and then he threw the
ball to the catcher, thinking to put out the runner with ease.

The catcher dropped it!

McDornick made a headlong plunge for the plate, touched it, leaped up
and dodged away before the catcher could pick up the ball.

Camden had scored!

Roar, roar, roar! The crowd went wild with joy. The black cliffs above
flung back the burst of sound. It seemed enough to wake the dead in the
distant cemetery tinder the slope of Battie. It was heard far down in
the heart of the town, and it brought more spectators hurrying to the
ball ground.

Williamson sat on the bench and laughed tauntingly at Dayguild, who was
flustered and excited.

"Now, if they know how to do the trick, they can win the game in this
inning," said a Thomaston man.

But Makune was not in good form, and he rolled one down to third, being
thrown out at first, which retired Camden with one score.

But Woods pitched wonderful ball the next inning, and Rockland was given
another whitewash.

By this time Dayguild had recovered his composure, and he pitched so
well that Slatridge, Woods and Williamson went out in quick succession.

Then came a fatal half for Camden. Merriwell had seen Woods feeling of
his elbow and working it as if it did not feel just right, and he was
not surprised when Rockland fell to batting the new pitcher of the
Camdens.

"Moslof ought to take Woods out," Frank said to Diamond. "He has hurt
that lame arm already."

"You must be wrong, Merry," said the Virginian. "See the speed he is
using. Why, I can hardly see the ball as it goes over the plate."

"Speed is all he is using," declared Merriwell, "and Rockland is eating
speed. He can't use his curves, as it hurts his arm to do so."

Now the Rockland crowd had a chance to yell and laugh, and cheer, for,
although Woods seemed to be pitching good ball, the "Limeburners" had
donned their "batting clothes," and were hitting anything and
every