Bert Wilson's Fadeaway Ball

by Mrs. Molesworth

  CHAPTER V

  WINNING HIS SPURS

  "Play ball!" shouted the umpire, and the buzz of conversation in thegrandstand ceased. All eyes were fastened on the two teams about toenter on the first important game of the season, and people sat upstraight and forgot everything else, so great was their interest in theforthcoming event.

  All the games that the Blues had played up to this time had been withteams over which they felt reasonably sure of winning a victory, but thenine they had to face to-day was a very different proposition. Most ofthe young fellows composing it were older and had had more experiencethan the Blues, and the latter knew that they would have to do theirvery utmost to win, if win they did. The thing they most relied on,however, was the fact that their pitcher was very good, and theybelieved that he would probably win the day for them.

  Of course, they had a lot of confidence in themselves, too, but theimportance of a steady, efficient pitcher to any team can hardly beexaggerated. It gives them a solid foundation on which to build up afast, winning team, and nobody realized this better than Mr. Ainslee,their veteran coach.

  "Only give me one good pitcher," he was wont to say, "and I'll guaranteeto turn out a team that will win the college championship."

  The star on the college team this year, Winters, was, without doubt, anexceptionally good pitcher. He had considerable speed and control, andhis curves could generally be counted on to elude the opposing batsmen.He was the only son in a wealthy family, however, and, as a consequence,had a very exaggerated idea of his own importance. He was inclined tolook down on the fellows who did not travel in what he called "his set,"and often went out of his way to make himself disagreeable to them.

  As Dick put it, "He liked to be the 'main squeeze,'" and he had beenmuch irritated over the way in which Bert had attracted the coach'sattention, and the consequent talk on the campus regarding the "newpitcher." He and his friends made it a point to sneer at and discreditthese stories, however, and to disparage Bert on every possibleoccasion.

  The veteran trainer had not forgotten, however, and moreover he wasworried in secret about Winters. It was, of course, his duty to seethat all the players attended strictly to business, and let no outsideinterests interfere with their training. Of late, however, he had heardfrom several sources that Winters had been seen in the town resorts atvarious times when he was supposed to be in bed, and Reddy knew, nonebetter, what that meant.

  However, he hoped that the pitcher would not force him to an openrebuke, and so had said nothing as yet. Nevertheless, as has been said,he kept Bert in mind as a possible alternative, although he hoped thathe would not be forced to use him.

  "He's had too little experience yet," he mused. "If I should put him ina game, he'd go up like a rocket, most likely. Them green pitchers can'tbe relied upon, even if he did fool Ainslee," and the veteran, in spiteof his worry, was forced to smile over the memory of how Bert had struckthe great coach out in practice.

  Previous to the actual start of the game both teams had been warming upon the field, and each had won murmurs of applause from the grandstands.To the wise ones, however, it was apparent that the Blues were a trifleshaky in fielding work, and many were seen to shake their headsdubiously.

  "The youngsters will have to do some tall hustling if they expect towin from the visitors," one gray-haired man was heard to say, "but theysay they have a crackerjack pitcher, that's one thing in their favor."

  "Yes, of course," agreed his friend, "but it's not only that; the otherfellows have had a whole lot more experience than our boys. And thatcounts an awful lot when it comes to a pinch."

  "You're right, it does," acquiesced the other; "however, there's nouse crossing the bridge till we come to it. We'll hope for the best,anyway."

  After a little more practice both teams retired to the clubhouse to maketheir last preparations. Not many minutes later everything was inreadiness, and the teams trotted into their positions. Of course, thevisitors went to bat first, and then could be heard the umpire's raucouscry of "Play ball!" that ushered in the game.

  A wave of handclapping and a storm of encouraging shouts and yells sweptover the grandstand, and then ensued a breathless silence. The first twoballs Winters pitched were wild, but then he steadied down, and struckthe first batter out. The second man up swung wildly, but after havingtwo strikes called, popped an easy fly toward first base that Dicksmothered "easier than rolling off a log," as he afterwards said. Thethird man met with no better fate, and Winters struck him out withapparent ease.

  As the fielders trotted in, the elderly gentleman who had entertainedsuch doubts before chuckled, "Well, now if our boys can only get in alittle stick work, and keep on holding them down like this, it looks asthough they might win, after all."

  Tom was the first man up at the bat for the Blues. But the pitcheropposed to him had lots of "stuff" on his delivery, and the best Tomcould do was to lift an easy foul that dropped into the catcher's glove.

  The next man up was struck out, as was also the third, and the inningended without a run for either team.

  From his seat on the substitutes' bench, Bert had watched the game up tothis point with eager eyes, and had felt that he would almost have giventen years of his life to take part in it. He knew there was practicallyno chance of this, however, and so with a sigh of regret settled back towatch the further progress of the game.

  The next two innings also passed without a run scored on either side,and it became more and more evident as the game went on that this was tobe a pitchers' battle.

  The first man up at bat for the visitors at the beginning of the fourthinning was considered their heaviest hitter, and as he walked up tothe plate he was swinging two bats, one of which he threw aside as hestepped to the plate. From the way he crouched in readiness for the ballit could be seen that he meant business, and the coach called Wintersover to him.

  "You want to be mighty careful what you feed this man," he whispered,"and whatever you do, keep them low. He likes high balls, and if yougive him one up as high as his shoulder, he'll swat it, sure."

  "Oh, you can bet he won't get a hit off me," replied Winters, carelessly."I've got that team eating out of my hand."

  "Don't be too sure of that, my lad," warned the coach, but Winters onlysmiled in a superior fashion and strolled back to the box.

  The first ball he pitched was an incurve, but it looked good to thebatter, and he swung at it viciously. He missed it clean, and the umpireshouted, "One strike!"

  This made Winters a little careless, and the next ball he pitched wasjust the one that the coach had warned him against. The batter took astep forward, swung fiercely at the ball, and there was a sharp crack asthe ball and bat connected. The ball shot back with the speed of abullet, and the outfielders started in hopeless chase. Baird, thebatter, tore around the bases, and amid a veritable riot of cheeringfrom the visiting rooters and a glum silence from the home supporters,charged across the sack for a home run!

  Too late now Winters thought of Reddy's warning, and wished he had givenit more heed. He knew that in so close a contest as this promised to be,one run would probably be enough to win the game, and this knowledgemade him nervous. The breaks from training that he had been guilty oflately began to tell, also, and he commenced to lose confidence, a fatalthing in a pitcher. However, he managed to get through the inningsomehow, and walked to the bench with a crestfallen air.

  The coach forbore to reproach him just then, as he knew that it wouldprobably do more harm than good. However, he kept a sharp eye on him,and inwardly was very much worried. He knew that Benson was not speedyenough to stand much chance against as strong a team as they were nowplaying, and though a great admirer of Bert, he did not know whether hehad the stamina to go a full game. He resolved to give Winters everychance to recover himself, and prayed that he would be able to do so.

  The first man of the home team to go to bat struck out on the hot curvesserved up to him, but Dick connected with the ball for a clean two-basehit.
A great cheer went up at this feat, but it was destined to havelittle effect. The second man fouled out and the third raised an easyfly to the pitcher's box, and so Dick's pretty drive did them no good.

  In the fifth inning Winters' pitching became more and more erratic, andto Reddy's experienced eye it became evident that he would soon "blowup." So he strolled over to the substitutes' bench and sat down besideBert.

  "How does your arm feel to-day, Wilson?" he inquired. "Do you feel asthough you could pitch if I happened to need you?"

  Bert's heart gave a great leap, but he managed to subdue his joy as herealized the trainer's meaning, and answered, "Why, yes, I think I couldmake out all right. Do you think you will need me?"

  "Well, there's just a chance that I may," replied Reddy, "and I want youto be ready to jump out and warm up the minute I give you the signal."

  "I'll be ready, sir, I can promise you that," replied Bert, earnestly,and the trainer appeared a little more hopeful as he turned away.

  "I can at least count on that young chap doing the best that is in him,at any rate," he thought; "he certainly doesn't look like a quitter tome."

  In their half of the fifth inning the home team was unable to make anyheadway against the opposing pitcher's curves, which seemed to getbetter and better as the game progressed. Dick felt, in some mysteriousway, that his team was losing heart, and his one hope was that the coachwould give Bert a chance to pitch. The boys, one after another, struckout or lifted easy flies, and not one man reached first base.

  The visitors now came to bat again, and the first ball Winters pitchedwas slammed out into left field for a two-base hit. The next batter upstepped to the plate with a grin on his face, and one of his teammatescalled, "Go to it, Bill. Eat 'em alive. We've got their goat now."

  The man thus adjured leaned back, and as Winters delivered a slow, easyball he swung viciously and sent a smoking grounder straight for thepitcher's box. The ball passed Winters before he had time to stoop forit, but White, the shortstop, made a pretty pick-up, and slammed theball to Dick at first. The ball arrived a second too late to put therunner out, however, and in the meantime the first man had reachedthird. Now was a crucial moment, and everything depended on the pitcher.All eyes were fastened on him, but from something in his attitude Reddyknew that he was on the verge of a breakdown. Nor was he mistaken inthis, for out of the next five balls Winters pitched, only one strikewas called. The rest were balls, and the umpire motioned to the batterto take first base. Of course this advanced the man on first to secondbase, thus leaving all the bases full and none out.

  As Winters was winding up preparatory to delivering one of his erstwhilefamous drops, Reddy motioned to Bert, and in a second the latter was upand had shed his sweater. He trotted over to where Reddy was standing,and said, "You wanted me, didn't you?"

  "Yes," replied Reddy, in a tense voice; "get Armstrong there"--motioningtoward the substitute catcher--"and warm up as quickly as you can. Takeit easy, though!" he commanded; "don't start in too hard! You mightthrow your arm out on the first few balls. Just limber up gradually."

  "All right, sir," replied Bert, and called to Armstrong.

  In the meantime Winters had pitched two wild balls, and the visitingrooters were yelling like maniacs. The third ball was an easy inshoot,and the batter, making a nice calculation, landed it fair and square. Itflew over into left field, between the pitcher's box and third base, andbefore it could be returned to the waiting catcher two runners hadcrossed the plate. This made the score three to none in favor of thevisitors, with two men on base and none out. Matters looked hopelessindeed for the home team, and one of the spectators groaned, "It's allover now but the shouting, fellows. Winters is up higher than a kite,and we've got nobody to put in his place. This game will just be aslaughter from now on."

  "How about young Wilson?" asked his friend. "I heard the other day thathe had showed up pretty well in practice. It looks now as though Reddymeant to put him in the box. See, he's warming up over there right now."

  "Ye gods and little fishes!" lamented the other. "Now we are cooked, forfair. It was bad enough with Winters pitching, but now when they putthat greenhorn Freshie in, we'll just be a laughing stock, that's all.Why doesn't the band play the funeral march?"

  "Aw, wait and see," said the other. "I don't suppose we've got the ghostof a show, but Dick Trent was telling me of some pretty good stunts thisboy Wilson has pulled off before this. He was telling me about a race inwhich Wilson drove a car across the tape a winner after a dickens of agrilling race. Any fellow that's got nerve enough to drive a racing autoought to be able to hold his own at baseball or anything else. You justsit tight and don't groan so much, and he may show us something yet."

  "Forget it, Bill, forget it," returned the other. "They've got our teamrunning, and they'll keep it running, take my word for it."

  "That's right," agreed another, "we might as well go home now as towait for the slaughter. This game is over, right now."

  "Hey, look at that!" yelled the first speaker, excitedly. "There goesWilson into the box. Three cheers for Wilson, fellows. Now! One! two!three!"

  The cheers were given by the faithful fans, but they had given up hope.It was indeed, as the rooter had said, however, and Bert was actuallybeing given an opportunity to pitch in a big game, when he had only beenwith the team a few months! Many a pitcher has been a substitute untilhis junior year, and never had a chance like this one. And, to tellthe truth, Reddy himself would have been the last one to put what heconsidered an inexperienced pitcher into the box, if he had had anyalternative. Now, however, it was a case of having no choice, because heknew that the game was irretrievably lost if Winters continued to pitch,so he put Bert in as a forlorn hope, but without any real expectationthat he would win.

  As he noticed the confident way in which Bert walked to the box, however,he plucked up courage a little, but immediately afterward shook his head."Pshaw," he thought, "they've got too big a lead on us. If Wilson canonly hold them down so that they don't make monkeys of us, it will bemore than I have a right to hope."

  For all Bert's nonchalant air, however, it must not be thought that hewas not excited or nervous. He had had comparatively little baseballexperience in such fast company as this. He had learned, however,to keep a cool and level head in times of stress, and he knew thateverything depended on this. So he just gritted his teeth, and when hemotioned to the catcher to come up and arrange signals, the latterhardly suspected what a turmoil was going on under Bert's cool exterior.

  "Just take it easy, kid," he advised. "Don't try to put too much stuffon the ball at first, and pitch as though we were only practising backof the clubhouse. Don't let those blamed rooters get you nervous,either. Take your time before each ball, and we'll pull through allright. Now, just get out there, and show them what you've got."

  Bert took his position in the box, and the umpire tossed him a brand newball. Remembering the catcher's advice, he wound up very deliberately,and pitched a swift, straight one square over the middle of the plate.The batsman had expected the "greenhorn" to try a fancy curve, and sowas not prepared for a ball of this kind. "One str-r-rike!" yelled theumpire, and the catcher muttered approvingly to himself. The batter,however, took a fresh grip on his bat, and resolved to "knock the coveroff" the next one. Bert delivered a wide out curve, and the batter swunghard, but only touched the ball, for a foul, and had another strikecalled on him. "Aw, that kid's running in luck," he thought. "But watchme get to him this time."

  The next ball Bert pitched looked like an easy one, and the batter,measuring its flight carefully with his eye, drew his bat back and swungwith all the weight of his body. Instead of sending the ball over thefence, however, as he had confidently expected, the momentum of hisswing was spent against empty air, and so great was its force that thebat flew out of his hand. "Three strikes," called the umpire, and amid ariot of cheering from the home rooters the batter gazed stupidly abouthim.

  "By the great horn spoon," he muttered,
under his breath, "somebody musthave come along and stolen that ball just as I was going to hit it. I'llswear that if it was in the air when I swung at it that I would havelanded it."

  As he walked to the bench the captain said, "What's the matter with you,Al? Has the freshie got you buffaloed?"

  "Aw, nix on that, cap," replied the disgruntled batter. "Wait until youget up there. Either that kid's having a streak of luck or else he's gotthat ball hypnotized. That last one he pitched just saw my bat comingand dodged under it. I think he's got 'em trained."

  "Why, you poor simp," laughed the captain; "just wait till I get upthere. Why, we all saw that last ball you bit on so nicely. It was acinch, wasn't it, boys?"

  It sure was, they all agreed, but the unfortunate object of thesepleasantries shook his head in a puzzled way, and stared at Bert.

  As it happened, the next batter was the same who had scored the home runin the first part of the game, and he swaggered confidently to theplate.

  Bert had overheard what the coach had told Winters in regard to thisbatter, so he delivered a low ball, which the batter let pass. "Oneball," called the umpire, and the captain of the visitors' teamremarked, "I thought he couldn't last. That was just a streak of'beginner's luck,' that's all."

  The next ball looked good to the batsman, and he lunged hard at thewhite sphere. It was a tantalizing upshoot, however, and he raised aneasy fly to Dick at first. The man on second had become so absorbed inwatching Bert, that when Dick wheeled like lightning and snapped theball to second, he was almost caught napping, and barely got back intime.

  The home rooters, who up to now had been rather listless in theircheering, now started in with a rush, and a veritable storm of cheeringand singing shook the grandstand. The coach drew a deep breath, andbegan to allow himself the luxury of a little hope.

  The third man up was the captain, who had boasted so of what he wasgoing to do to the "green" pitcher. As he rose to go to the plate heremarked, "Watch me, now, Al, and I'll show you what it is like to swata ball over the fence."

  He selected a very heavy bat, and stepped jauntily to the plate. Berthad been warned to do his best against this man, as he was popularlyknown as the "pitcher's hoodoo." He resolved to use his "fadeaway" ballfor all it was worth, and shook his head at all the catcher's signalsuntil the latter signaled for the fadeaway. He then nodded his head, andwound up very deliberately. Then he pitched what looked like a straight,fast ball to the expectant batsman. The latter gripped his bat and putall his strength into what he fondly hoped would be a "homer." His batwhistled as it cut the air, but in some mysterious way failed to eventouch the ball, which landed with a loud "plunk!" in the catcher's mitt.A roar of derisive laughter went up from the rooters, and the captainlooked rather foolish. "That's mighty queer," he thought, "there mustbe something the matter with the balance of this bat. I guess I'll tryanother." Accordingly, he took a fresh bat, and waited with renewedconfidence for the next ball. This time he swung more carefully, butwith no better result. "Two strikes!" barked the umpire, and thefrenzied rooters stood up on their seats and yelled themselves hoarse."Wilson! Wilson! Wilson!" they roared in unison, and Bert felt a greatsurge of joy go through him. His arm felt in perfect condition, and heknew that if called upon he could have pitched the whole game and nothave been overtired. He handled the ball carefully, and fitted it injust the right position in his hand. He resolved to try the same ballonce more, as he thought the batter would probably think that he wouldtry something else. This he did, and although the batter felt sure thathe had this ball measured to the fraction of an inch, his vicious swingencountered nothing more substantial than air.

  "Three strikes!" called the umpire, and amid a storm of cheering andridicule from the grandstand the discomfited batter slammed his bat downand walked over to his teammates.

  It was now Al's turn to crow, and he did so unmercifully. "What's thematter, cap?" he inquired, grinning wickedly. "That kid hasn't got yourgoat, has he? Where's that homer over the fence that you were alludingto a few minutes ago?"

  "Aw, shut up!" returned the captain, angrily. "That Freshie's got adelivery that would fool Ty Cobb. There's no luck about that. It's justdandy pitching."

  "I could have told you that," said the other, "but I thought I'd let youfind it out for yourself. That boy's a wonder."

  The home team trotted in from the field eagerly, and there was a look intheir eyes that Reddy was glad to see. "They've got some spirit andconfidence in them now," he thought. "I certainly think I've got akingpin pitcher at last. But I'd better not count my chickens beforethey're hatched. He may go all to pieces in the next inning."

  As they came in, Dick and Tom slapped Bert on the back. "We knew youcould do it, old scout!" they exulted. "What will old Winters' pals haveto say after this?"

  Reddy said little, but scanned Bert's face carefully, and seemedsatisfied. "I guess you'll do, Wilson," he said. "We'll let you pitchthis game out, and see what you can do."

  Sterling was the first man up, and he walked to the plate with a resolveto do or die written on his face. He planted his feet wide apart, andconnected with the first pitched ball for a hot grounder that got himsafely to first base. The rooters cheered frantically, and the cheeringgrew when it was seen that Bert was the next batter. This was more inrecognition, however, of his good work in the box. Heavy hitting is notexpected of a pitcher, and nobody looked to see Bert do much in thisline. While he had been watching the game from the bench, he had studiedthe opposing pitcher's delivery carefully, and had learned one or twofacts regarding it. He felt sure that if the pitcher delivered a certainball, he would be able to connect with it, but was disappointed atfirst. Bert bit at a wide out curve, and fouled the next ball, which wasa fast, straight one. But as the pitcher wound up for the third oneBert's heart leaped, for he saw that this was going to be the ball thathe had been hoping for. He grasped his bat near the end, for Bert waswhat is known as a "free swinger," and crouched expectantly. The ballcame to him like a shot, but he swung his bat savagely and clipped theball with terrific force toward third base. Almost before the spectatorsrealized that the ball had been hit, Bert was racing toward first base,and the man already on base was tearing up the sod toward second.

  The ball scorched right through the hands of the third baseman, andcrashed against the left field fence. The fielders scurried wildly afterit, but before they could return it to the infield, the man on firstbase had scored, and Bert was on third.

  "We'll win yet! We'll win yet! We'll win yet!" croaked a rooter, toohoarse to yell any longer. "What's the matter with Wilson?" and in onevast roar came the answer, "HE'S ALL RIGHT!"

  The home team players were all dancing around excitedly, and theypounded Hinsdale unmercifully on the back, for he was up next. "Bust ahole through the fence, Hinsdale," they roared; "they're on the run now.Go in and break a bat over the next ball!"

  "Hin" fairly ran to the plate in his eagerness, and, as he afterwardsaid, he felt as though he "couldn't miss if he tried." The first ballover the plate he slammed viciously at the pitcher, who stopped theball, but fumbled it a few seconds, thus giving him a chance to get tofirst. The pitcher then hurled the ball to the home plate, in the hopeof cutting off Bert from scoring, but was a fraction of a second toolate, and Bert raced in with one more run.

  The pitcher now tightened up, however, and put his whole soul intostopping this winning streak, and it looked as though he had succeeded.The next two batters struck out on six pitched balls, and the visitingrooters had a chance to exercise their voices, which had had a rest forsome time. Drake was up next, and he knocked out a long fly that lookedgood, but was pulled down by a fielder after a pretty run. This endedthe sixth inning, and the visitors were still one run ahead.

  As Bert was about to go onto the field, Reddy said, "Don't take it toohard, Wilson. Don't mind if they do hit a ball sometimes. If you try tostrike each man out without fail, it makes too great a tax on your arm.Let the fielders work once in a while."

  With
these instructions in mind, Bert eased up a little in the nextinning, but the visitors had no chance to do any effective slugging.Twice they got a man on first base, but each time Bert struck out thefollowing batter or only allowed him to hit the ball for an easy flythat was smothered without any trouble.

  Consequently the visitors failed to score that inning, but they werestill one run ahead, and knew that if they could hold Bert's team downthey would win the game.

  The home team failed to "get to" the ball for anything that looked likea run, and the seventh inning ended with no change in the score.

  "Well, Wilson, it's up to you to hold them down," said Reddy, as theplayers started for their positions in the beginning of the eighthinning. "Do you feel as though you could do it?"

  "Why, I'll do my best," replied Bert, modestly. "My arm feels strongerthan it did when I started, so I guess I'm good for some time yet, atany rate."

  "All right, go in and win," replied Reddy, with a smile, and Bert neededno urging.

  The first man to bat for the visitors was the one called Al, who hadfirst had a taste of Bert's "fadeaway." He swung viciously on the firstball that Bert offered him, which happened to be a fast in-curve. By acombination of luck and skill he managed to land the sphere for a safetrip to first. The cover of the ball was found to be torn when it wasthrown back. Consequently, Bert had to pitch with a new ball, and failedto get his customary control. Much to his disgust he pitched four ballsand two strikes, and the batter walked to first, forcing the man alreadyon first to second base.

  "Yah, yah!" yelled a visiting rooter. "It's all over. He's blowing up!Pitcher's got a glass arm! Yah! Yah!"

  Others joined him in this cry, and Reddy looked worried. "That's enoughto rattle any green pitcher," he thought. "I only hope they don't knowwhat they're talking about, and I don't think they do. Wilson's a gameboy, or I'm very much mistaken."

  "Don't let 'em scare you, Bert," called Dick, from first base. "Let 'emyell their heads off if they want to. Don't mind 'em."

  "No danger of that," returned Bert, confidently. "Just watch my smokefor a few minutes, that's all."

  Bert struck out the next batter in three pitched balls, and the clamorfrom the hostile rooters died down. The next batter was the captain, andhe was burning for revenge, but popped a high foul to Hinsdale, thecatcher, and retired, saying things not to be approved. The third manwas struck out after Bert had had two balls called on him, and thisended the visitors' half of the eighth inning.

  The home team could make no better headway against the visitors'pitching and team work, however, and the inning ended without a tally.The score stood three to two in the visitors' favor, and things lookedrather dark for the home boys.

  At the beginning of the ninth the visitors sent a pinch hitter, namedBurroughs, to the plate to bat in place of Al, who by now had an almostsuperstitious fear of Bert's delivery, and declared that "he couldn'thit anything smaller than a football if that Freshie pitched it."

  Burroughs was hampered by no such feelings, however, and, after twostrikes had been called on him, he managed to connect with a fast,straight ball and sent it soaring into the outfield. It looked like aneasy out, but at the last moment the fielder shifted his position alittle too much, and the ball dropped through his fingers. Before hecould get it in, the runner had reached third base, where he dancedexcitedly and emitted whoops of joy.

  Bert felt a sinking sensation at his heart, as he realized how muchdepended on him. The next man up made a clever bunt, and although he wasput out, Burroughs reached home ahead of the ball, bringing in anotherrun.

  He was rewarded with a storm of applause from the visiting rooters, andit seemed as though all hope had departed for the home team.

  With the next batter Bert made unsparing use of his fadeaway, and struckhim out with little trouble. The third man shared the same fate, but itseemed as though the game were irretrievably lost. A two-run lead in theninth inning seemed insurmountable, and Reddy muttered things under hisbreath. When the boys came trooping over to the bench, he said, "What'sthe matter with you fellows, anyway? What good does it do for Wilson tohold the other team down, if you don't do any stick work to back him up?Get in there now, and see if you can't knock out a few runs. A game isnever finished until the last half of the ninth inning, and you've gota good chance yet. Go to it."

  Every chap on the team resolved to make a run or die in the attempt, andReddy could see that his speech had had some effect.

  Dick was the first batter up, and he selected a heavy "wagon tongue" andstepped to the plate. The pitcher may have been a little careless, butat any rate Dick got a ball just where he wanted it, and swung withall his strength. The ball fairly whistled as it left the bat anddashed along the ground just inside the right foul line. Dick sprintedfrantically around the bases, and got to third before he was stopped byTom, who had been waiting for him. "No further, old sock," said Tom,excitedly. "That was a crackerjack hit, but you could never have gothome on it. Gee! if Hodge will only follow this up we've got a chance."

  Hodge was a good batter, and he waited stolidly until he got a ball thatsuited him. Two strikes were called on him, and still he waited. Thenthe pitcher sent him a long out curve, and Hodge connected with the ballfor a safe one-bag hit, while Dick raced home. It looked bright for thehome team now, but the next batter struck out, and although Hodge made adaring slide to second, a splendid throw cut him off.

  Sterling was up next, and on the third pitched ball he managed to planta short drive in left field that got him safely to first base. Then itwas Bert's turn at the bat, and a great roar greeted him as he steppedto the plate.

  "Win your own game, Wilson," someone shouted, and Bert resolved to doso, if possible.

  He tried to figure out what the pitcher would be likely to offer him,and decided that he would probably serve up a swift, straight one atfirst. He set himself for this, but the pitcher had different ideas,and sent over a slow drop that Bert swung at, a fraction of a secondtoo late. "Strike," called the umpire, and the hostile fans yelleddelightedly. The next one Bert drove out for what looked like a goodhit, but it turned out to be a foul. "Two strikes," barked the umpire,and some of the people in the grandstand rose as if to leave, evidentlythinking that the game was practically over.

  Bert watched every motion of the pitcher as he wound up, and so waspretty sure what kind of a ball was coming. The pitcher was noted forhis speed, and, almost at the moment the ball left his hand, Bert swunghis bat straight from the shoulder, with every ounce of strength hepossessed in back of it. There was a sharp crack as the bat met theball, and the sphere mounted upward and flew like a bullet for thecenter field fence.

  As if by one impulse, every soul in the grandstand and bleachers rose tohis or her feet, and a perfect pandemonium of yells broke forth. Thefielders sprinted madly after the soaring ball, but they might havesaved themselves the trouble. It cleared the fence by a good ten feet,and Bert cantered leisurely around the bases, and came across the homeplate with the winning run.

  Then a yelling, cheering mob swept down on the field, and enveloped theplayers. In a moment Bert and some of the others were hoisted up onbroad shoulders, and carried around the field by a crowd of temporarymaniacs. It was some time before Bert could get away from hisenthusiastic admirers, and join the rest of his teammates.

  As he entered the dressing rooms, Reddy grasped his hand, and said,"Wilson, you have done some great work to-day, and I want to congratulateyou. From now on you are one of the regular team pitchers."

  "Thank you, sir," replied Bert, "but I don't deserve any special credit.We all did the best we could, and that was all anybody could do."

  So ended the first important game of the season, and Bert's position inthe college was established beyond all question. Winters' friends madea few half-hearted efforts to detract from his popularity, but were metwith such a cold reception that they soon gave up the attempt, and Bertwas the undisputed star pitcher of the university team.