ymond shook his head.

"Did I tag the big fat devil?" he queried, earnestly. "Is he out?"

"You got him a mile," replied Worry.

After a few moments Raymond was able to stand upon his feet, but he
was so shaky that Worry sent Schoonover to second.

Then the cheering leaders before the bleachers bellowed through their
megaphones, and the students, rising to their feet, pealed out nine
ringing "_Waynes!_" and added a roaring "Raymond!" to the end.

With two out, Kern called play.

Once again MacNeff was at bat. He had not made a foul in his two times
up. He was at Ken's mercy, and the Wayne rooters were equally merciless.

"Ho! the slugging captain comes!"

"Get him a board!"

"Fluke hitter!"

"Mac, that was a lucky stab of yours Wednesday! Hit one _now_!"

No spectator of that game missed Ken's fierce impetuosity when he
faced MacNeff. He was as keen strung as a wire when he stood erect
in the box, and when he got into motion he whirled far around, swung
back bent, like a spring, and seemed to throw his whole body with the
ball. One--two--three strikes that waved up in their velocity, and
MacNeff for the third time went out.

Clatter and smash came from the bleachers, long stamping of feet,
whistle and bang, for voices had become weak.

A hit, an error, a double play, another hit, a steal, and a forced
out--these told Wayne's dogged, unsuccessful trial for the winning run.

But Worry Arthurs had curtly said to his pitcher: "Peg, cut loose!"
and man after man for Place failed to do anything with his terrific
speed. It was as if Ken had reserved himself wholly for the finish.

In the last of the eighth Dean hit one that caromed off Griffith's shin,
and by hard running the little catcher made second. Ken sent him to third
on a fielder's choice. It was then the run seemed forthcoming. Salisbury
toiled in the box to coax the wary Homans. The Wayne captain waited until
he got a ball to his liking. Martin trapped the hit and shot the ball
home to catch Dean. It was another close decision, as Dean slid with the
ball, but the umpire decided against the runner.

"Peg, lam them over now!" called Reddy Ray.

It was the first of the ninth, with the weak end of Place's hitting
strength to face Ken. Griffith, Conroy, Salisbury went down before
him as grass before a scythe. To every hitter Ken seemed to bring
more effort, more relentless purpose to baffle them, more wonderful
speed and control of his fast ball.

Th