on a foul which Copley took
thirty feet behind the pan, and Cooper perishing in an effort to beat a
slow grounder to first.

With the beginning of the fifth Rackliff again called encouragement to
the batters, having strolled back to the ropes a little further down
beyond first base. He urged them to "get into it," "hit it out," "drop
on it," "give it a rise," and, as if braced by his cries, they began
slaughtering Springer mercilessly. Sanger singled; Cline poked one
past Cooper; and Roberts, once more surprising everybody by smashing
the first ball, doubled and brought both runners home.

And now once more Springer's nerves were a-quiver in every part of his
body. In his disturbed state he actually swallowed the chew of gum he
had procured. Rattled, he hit Berry in the ribs, and handed Dingley a
pass, filling the bases.

"It's all off! It's all over but the shouting!" yelled Sanger, dancing
and waving his arms on the coaching line near third. "Got him going,
fellows! Don't let up! Here's where we win the game!"

CHAPTER XI.

A CHANGE OF PITCHERS.

The green banners were fluttering like leaves in a furious tempest;
horns, cowbells and human voices sent a wild uproar across the diamond;
Springer, white as a sheet, his confidence totally shattered, was all
to the bad. Another clean hit would almost certainly permit two
Barville runners to score and put the visitors one tally in the lead.

And not a man was out!

Knowing something must be done at once or the game would doubtless be
lost in that inning, Eliot threw the ball to Barker, so that Berlin
might hold the man on third, and, calling Phil, stepped forward and met
him in front of the pan.

"Play ball! play ball!" yelled Sanger. "Don't delay the game!" And,
"Play ball! play ball!" howled the Barville spectators.

Coolly, calmly, soothingly, the Oakdale captain spoke in a low tone to
the unnerved pitcher. "Brace up, Phil, old fellow," he urged. "Take
your time; stop pitching as fast as you can soak the ball over. You're
not using your head. If you'll steady down we can pull out of this
hole. Now, go slow, and don't mind the racket." For a moment his
right hand touched Springer's left shoulder with a steadying pressure.

"I'll try," promised Phil huskily. "I'll do my best, captain."

While the visitors still howled, "Play ball," Roger stood on the plate
and fussed with the strap of his catching mask, which did not need any
attention