"I'm doing all I can!" snapped Sam. "I'm not getting decent support."

"Aw, cut it out! Of course you are!" a.s.serted Rankin.

A single tally by each side in the sixth, and two for the Silver Stars and one for the Resolutes in the seventh, brought the game to that usual breathing spot. The score was now a tie, and the excitement was growing.

"For cats' sake beat 'em out, fellows!" pleaded Darrell. "Use your bats.

They're to hit the ball with, not to fan the air!"

Perhaps his frantic appeal had some effect, for in the next inning the Resolutes only got one run, while, when the Silver Stars came to bat to close the inning, they hammered out three, putting them well ahead.

But there was trouble brewing. Sam's arm was giving out. He realized it himself but he dared not speak of it. Grimly he fought against it, but he saw that the other side was aware of it.

"Come on now, we'll get his goat!" yelled the captain of the Resolutes.

Then began what may be regarded as the cruel practice of yelling discouraging remarks at the man in the box. Sam was plainly told that he was "rotten" while other and less mild epithets were hurled at him.

These had their effect. He gave two men their base on b.a.l.l.s, and he made a number of wild throws to first where Tom Davis had replaced Darrell Blackney. However, by a strong brace Sam managed to hold his opponents runless, though in this saving work he was n.o.bly a.s.sisted by his fellows, and by the quickness of Tom in not letting the wild b.a.l.l.s get by him. Tom was a magnificent high jumper, which served him in good stead.

The ending of the eighth saw the score nine to seven in favor of the Silver Stars, they having brought in three runs.

It began to look, in spite of Sam's trouble, as if the home team would win. There was a riot of cheers when the Resolutes went to bat in the ninth inning, and despite the fact that they were two runs behind, their supporters did not fail them.

"Win! Win! Win!" they yelled.

"Oh, we'll win all right," said Captain Littell grimly.

And he and his men gave good evidence of doing so a few minutes later.

Sam literally "went to pieces." He lost all control of the ball, and was fairly "knocked out of the box." There was a look of despair on the faces of his mates.

"What's the matter with him?" demanded Joe, who was surprised at the sudden slump.

"Oh, that's what he does every once in a while," said a disgusted Silver Star supporter. "You can't depend on him. Wow, that's rotten!" for Sam had delivered a ball that was batted over the right-field fence.

Instantly there was a wild scene. Two men were on second and third base respectively when this "homer" was knocked and they came racing in. The home-run batter followed.

"Ring around the rosey!" yelled the Resolute captain. "If we had more on base they'd all come in. Hit at anything, fellows! Hit everything."

It looked as if they were doing it, for they made six runs that inning, which brought the score to thirteen to nine in favor of the visitors.

"Five runs to win, and four to tie," murmured Darrell as his men came in from the field for their inning. "Can we do it?"

How it was done even he scarcely knew, for so fierce was the rivalry between the teams, and so high the excitement, that several times open clashes were narrowly averted. But the four runs were secured, and though the Silver Stars played their best they could not get another one. But even to tie the score after Sam's slump was something worth while.

"Ten innings! It gives us another chance for our white alley," murmured Tom to Joe, as the first baseman made ready to go on the sack again. "If we can get one run, and hold them down to a goose egg it will do."

But the Resolutes seemed to have struck a winning streak. Sam could not pull himself together, and got worse. Darrell was in despair, and there was gloom in the hearts of the Riverside residents.

"Haven't they another pitcher they can put in?" asked Joe of one of his neighbors.

"No, and if they had Sam would raise such a row that it might bust up the team. He'll play it out."

In the tenth inning the Resolutes pounded out three more runs, batting Sam all over the field, and when the Silver Stars came up the score was sixteen to thirteen against them.

"Oh, for a bunch of runs!" pleaded Darrell, as his men went to bat.

But they couldn't get them. The Resolute pitcher with a grin on his freckled face sent in curve after curve and struck out two men in short order. Then Tom Davis knocked a little pop fly which was easily caught, and the game ended in a riot of yells, as a goose egg went up in the tenth frame for the Silver Stars. They had lost by a score of sixteen to thirteen, and there were bitter feelings in their hearts against their rivals.

"Why don't you get a pitcher who can pitch?" demanded one of the Resolutes.

"Don't you insult me!" cried Sam striding forward. "I can pitch as good as your man."

"Aw, listen to him! He's dreaming!" some one yelled, laughingly.

"I am; eh? Well, I'll show you!" cried Sam angrily, and the next instant, in spite of the effort of Darrell to hold him back, he had leaped for the lad who had mocked him, and had struck him a heavy blow.

CHAPTER III

MRS. MATSON IS WORRIED

"What do you mean by that?" demanded the lad whom Sam had struck.

"That's what I mean by it. I mean you can't insult me!"

"I can't, eh? Well, I can whip you all right," and with those words Sam was nearly knocked off his feet by a return blow.

"Here, cut that out!" yelled Darrell.

"Aw, what's eating you?" demanded another of the Resolute crowd. "If you fellows are looking for a fight you can have it; eh boys?"

"Sure thing!" came in a chorus, as the players crowded up, with bats in their hands.

"This may be serious," murmured Darrell to Tom. "See if you can't stop Sam from fighting."

But it was too late, as Sam and his opponent were at each other hammer and tongs.

"Do you want to fight?" sneered the lad who had accosted the manager.

"No, I don't."

"Afraid?"

"No, of course not."

"Then come on," and the lad, half in fun perhaps, gave Darrell a shove.

Now Darrell, though disliking fistic encounters, was no coward and he promptly retaliated with a blow that knocked his enemy down.