rs and Roger saw
just what had happened to them, he turned quickly to Hooker, saying in
a low tone:

"Get a ball, Hook, and warm up. You'll have to pitch the game out."

A doctor pressed through the crowd that had surrounded the injured
player.

"Fix these busted fingers up quick, doc," urged Grant, "so I can get
back into the game without delaying things too long."

"You'll play no more baseball to-day, my boy," said the physician; "nor
for some days to come. You're out of it, and you may as well accept
the alternative with good grace."

And so Springer saw Hooker go in to pitch, aware that only for his
jealousy and blind folly he would have been the one called upon to
replace the injured chap.

"Serves me right," he muttered. Which was proof sufficient that he was
getting his eyes open.

Naturally, Hooker was very nervous, although secretly elated by the
opportunity to pitch in this most important game. Eliot talked with
him a moment or two about signals, finishing by placing a hand on his
shoulder and saying:

"Now, keep cool, Hook, and take your time. Mind my signals, and do
your best for control. It's your chance to show the stuff that's in
you. Don't be afraid of Wyndham, and don't listen to the crowd. Close
your ears and eyes to everything outside of the game. You may surprise
yourself and everybody else, if you keep your head."

There was something in Roger's words and manner that proved very
steadying to Roy, and he toed the slab with an outward show of
confidence, whether or not he was inwardly perturbed. The majority of
the Oakdale players were much cast down, however, and it was a rather
feeble and heartless cheer that the rooters with the crimson banners
gave the substitute pitcher.

Hooker pitched two balls wide, and then put one over; which the batsman
hit, rolling a grounder into the diamond for Chipper Cooper to handle.
Chipper managed to get it and wing it across to Crane for a clean
put-out.

"Two gone, fellows," called Eliot. "We'll keep right on playing
baseball. Get this next man, now."

The next man hoisted a long fly to center, where Ben Stone, sure as
fate, took charge of it; and Hooker, now really quite calm and
confident, jogged to the bench.

"See if you can't start something, Sleuth," urged Roger as Piper found
his bat. "We've got to make some runs pretty soon, and we may as well
begin now."

Springer, walking swiftly out to the bench, spoke Eliot's name. "I