ed for first base. The umpire called him
back. Thereupon Raymond fouled balls and went through contortions
at the plate till he was out on strikes.

When Reddy Ray took his position at bat audible remarks passed like
a wave through the audience. Then a long, hearty cheer greeted the
great sprinter. When roar once again subsided into waiting suspense
a strong-lunged Wayne rooter yelled, "_Watch him run!_"

The outfielders edged out deeper and deeper. MacNeff called low to
Salisbury: "Don't let this fellow walk! Keep them high and make him
hit!" It was evident that Place had gotten a line on one Wayne player.

Salisbury delivered the ball and Reddy whirled with his level swing.
There was a sharp crack.

Up started the crowd with sudden explosive: "Oh!"

Straight as a bee-line the ball sped to Keene in deep centre, and
Reddy was out.

Wayne players went running out and Place players came trotting in. Ken,
however, at Worry's order, walked slowly and leisurely to the pitcher's
box. He received an ovation from the audience that completely surprised
him and which stirred him to warm gratefulness. Then, receiving the ball,
he drew one quick breath, and faced the stern issue of the day.

As always, he had his pitching plan clearly defined in mind, and no
little part of it was cool deliberation, study of the batter to the
point of irritating him, and then boldness of action. He had learned
that he was not afraid to put the ball over the plate, and the knowledge
had made him bold, and boldness increased his effectiveness.

For Keene, first batter up, Ken pitched his fast ball with all his
power. Like a glancing streak it shot over. A low whistling ran through
the bleachers. For the second pitch Ken took the same long motion,
ending in the sudden swing, but this time he threw a slow, wide,
tantalizing curve that floated and waved and circled around across
the plate. It also was a strike. Keene had not offered to hit either.
In those two balls, perfectly controlled, Ken deliberately showed the
Place team the wide extremes of his pitching game.

"Keene, he don't waste any. Hit!" ordered MacNeff from the bench.
The next ball, a high curve, Keene hit on the fly to Homans.

The flaxen-haired Prince trotted up with little, short steps. Ken did
not need the wild outburst from the crowd to appreciate this sturdy
hero of many gridiron and diamond battles. He was so enormously wide,
almost as wide as he was long, that he would ha