by
Eliot, they made no retort, and, seemingly, did not hear him. Since
the affair with Piper he had not, however, again offered to deflect a
bat.

It was a great game to watch, a game in which those high school boys,
keyed to a keen tension, were really outdoing themselves, performing
more than once feats which would have been creditable to professionals.
It was the kind of baseball that makes the blood tingle, the heart
throb, and leaves many an enthusiastic spectator husky from howling.
The strain was so great that it seemed an assured thing that something
must give way. Oakdale had saved herself temporarily by changing
pitchers, but shortly after the opening of the eighth inning it began
to look as if the fatal downfall of the home team had simply been
delayed.

Larkins led off by batting a dust scorcher against Cooper's shins, and
once more Chipper marred his record by booting the ball and throwing
wild to first when he finally got hold of it. This let the runner romp
easily to second.

Copley was seen to whisper something in Sanger's ear as the Barville
captain rose from the bench, bat in hand. Then Lee walked into the box
and bunted beautifully along the line toward first. He was thrown out
by Grant, but his purpose had been accomplished, and Larkins was on
third, with only one man down.

Fearing an attempted squeeze play, Eliot signaled for Rod to keep the
ball high and close on Cline. Roger had made no mistake in judgment,
and, despite the Texan's effort to baffle the hitter, Cline managed to
bump a roller into the diamond. Cooper, charging in, scooped the
sphere and snapped it underhand to Eliot; for Larkins, having started
to dig gravel with the first motion of Grant's arm, was doing his
utmost to score.

"Slide!" shrieked the coachers.

Larkins obeyed, and there might have been some dispute over the
umpire's decision had not the ball slipped out of Roger's fingers just
as he poked it onto the prostrate fellow.

"Safe!" announced the umpire, with a downward motion of his outspread
hand.

The coachers capered wildly, while Copley, leaping forward, met
Larkins, who had risen, and ostentatiously assisted in brushing some of
the dirt from his clothes. The Barville crowd behaved like a bunch
from a lunatic asylum. Roy Hooker told himself that Grant must surely
go to pieces now. "If Eliot had given me a show," he whispered to
himself, "I might go in there now and stop the slaughter."

Appare