"A home run, Tom," begged the coach, and Tom nodded with a grim smile on his face. But alas for hopes! He knocked a fly, which the right fielder got without much difficulty, and the first half of the initial inning was over with a goose-egg in the s.p.a.ce devoted to Randall.

"Never mind, we're finding him," consoled Tom, as he walked to his box.

Lynn Ralling was up first for Boxer Hall, and Tom resolved to strike him out, if it was at all possible. It was his first pitching in a league game that season, and he was a trifle nervous. Still he held himself well in hand, and, though the first two attempts were called "b.a.l.l.s" the next three went down as strikes. Ralling refused to swing on two of them, but the last one seemed to him as just right, but Tom had the satisfaction of striking him out. McGherity, the next man up, was a notoriously heavy hitter, and Tom purposely gave him a pa.s.s to first. He struck out Roy Conklin, but something went wrong with the next man, Arthur Flood, who knocked a two-bagger. Then George Stoddard got to first on a swift grounder, that, somehow rolled through the legs of Bricktop, much to that hero's disgust. There was some good playing the rest of the inning, George being caught napping on second, and it ended with two runs in favor of Boxer Hall.

"We've got to wake up!" decided Mr. Leighton grimly. "Put a little more ginger into it, boys!"

"What's the matter with our team?" Bean Perkins demanded to know in his loudest voice.

"It's all right," was the response, from scores of throats.

"Now for the 'Conquer or Die' song," called Bean, and as Dan Woodhouse went up to the bat in the beginning of the second inning the strains of "_Aut vincere aut mori_," welled out over the diamond. But the inspiring melody that, more than once had been the means of inspiring a faint-hearted team to victory, seemed to be of no effect now. Not a man got further than second, and another goose egg went up to the credit of Randall. But a similar dose was served to Boxer in the same inning, and when Randall opened the third with Holly Cross at the bat, there was much wonder, and not a little disappointment. What would Holly do? He soon showed by knocking a two bagger, but, alas for what followed.

Though he managed to steal to third, Langridge pitched so well that those who followed were struck out, and there was another white circle.

It was duplicated for Boxer Hall, however, and there began to be talk of a "pitchers' battle."

"We'll find Langridge this inning," prophesied Tom, and it was partly justified, for one run came in, which sent the grand stand where the Randallites were gathered wild with delight.

"Now, fellows, give 'em that song--'We're going to wallop you now,'"

called Bean, and there arose a riot of "melody." In the fifth inning neither side scored, and then came the turn of Captain Tom's men again.

They delighted their supporters by pulling down two runs, and making the score three to two in their favor. Then, when Boxer Hall came up for their inning, they hammered out two runs, which sent Randall stock down to zero again with the score of four to three against them.

The seventh and eighth innings saw big circles chalked up in the frames of both teams, though Tom and his men worked hard to bring in at least another run. But it was not to be.

"Now, fellows, it's our last chance," remarked the coach, as Holly Cross stepped up in the ninth, his teeth fairly gritting together. "Two runs to win--that is if we hold 'em down when they come up."

"I'll do that part," guaranteed Tom grimly.

From the grand stands there were shouts and yells of encouragement--and otherwise. Bean led his cohorts in, "It's Your Last Chance, Boys--Soak It!" a Randall cla.s.sic of the diamond. Well, Holly did "soak" it, with the result that he knocked the prettiest three-bagger seen in many a day. Then came Sid's turn. Two strikes were called on him, and then came a foul.

"I'm afraid he's going to fan," whispered Tom to the coach.

"Watch him," advised Mr. Leighton.

There was a rea.s.suring "thump" as the next ball reached Sid. Away sailed the sphere right over the center fielder's head.

"It's a beaut! It's a beaut! Run! Run! Run!" yelled the frenzied students. Holly was legging it in from third and my! how Sid was running! Low down, and like the wind! The frantic center fielder was racing for the ball amid the daisies. On and on came Sid!

"A home run! A home run!" screamed Tom and his players, jumping up and down and over the bench in their excitement. Around the bases came Sid, following Holly. The second baseman swung around third and started for home, but the ball was on the way. Would he beat it?

He did, by about a second, rushing in almost exhausted, over the plate which Holly had just crossed.

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" cried Sid's and Holly's mates. "That wins the game!"

and they hugged Sid and his chum. "Two Runs!"

"The game is not won yet," said the coach, more soberly. "We need more runs."

But they couldn't get them. There was a sudden improvement on the part of Langridge, who had begun to weaken, and he struck out the next two men, the third getting out on a bingle. But the score was five to four in favor of Randall, and if Tom could hold them down, and strike out three men, the game was theirs. Could he do it?

There was a great strain on everyone as the Randall team went out to the field. From the grand stand came softly the "Conquer or Die" song, and Tom felt a sense of moisture in his eyes.

"I'll strike 'em out!" he muttered.

How he did it is college history to this day. Calmly he faced the first man, and delivered a ball.

"Strike!" howled the umpire, and this time it was Boxer Hall that sent up a groan of protest. But it was silenced, and in two more b.a.l.l.s delivered over the plate with faultless precision, but with puzzling curves, Tom had one down.

"Only two more," called Phil to him encouragingly.

Tom nodded. How he did pitch! The b.a.l.l.s sounded like guns when they hit Dutch Housenlager's big mitt, but he held them.

"Three strikes--batter out!" yelled the umpire, and the second man threw down his stick and walked disgustedly to the bench.

George Stoddard was up next. Tom was afraid of him. He delivered a puzzling slow drop, but Stoddard got under it for a foul.

Tom breathed a bit easier. Two more chances. He sent one of his best out shoots, and Stoddard foolishly bit at it. The ball just grazed the bat, and bounded up into the air. Dutch made a desperate effort for it.

"Can't get it!" yelled the crowd, as it went over the back grand stand.

The umpire threw Tom a new ball. He hated to use it, as the other seemed just right. But the one that had gone over the stand was slow in being returned. Dutch signalled for another drop, but Tom shook his head. He wanted to try a delicate in-curve.

It seemed that the players and spectators were scarcely breathing--it was the critical point of the game, yet with two down Boxer Hall could scarcely hope to win. Yet there was a chance. Tom delivered the ball.

Stoddard swung at it with such force that he turned completely around.

But the new, white ball was safe in the mitt of Dutch Housenlager.

Stoddard had struck out--there were three down for Boxer in the ending of the ninth, and not a run. Randall had won--the score being five to four.

Then such a chorus of yells as went up! Even Bean Perkins could scarcely be heard.

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" cried Dutch, seizing Holly Cross around the waist, and doing a dance with him about the bench. "We did it!"

"Great work, boys!" cried the coach. "I congratulate you!"

"Three cheers for Randall!" proposed Pinkey Davenport for Boxer Hall, and the yells came with spontaneous enthusiasm.

"Three and a tiger for Boxer Hall!" yelled Tom, and his men nearly split their throats.

"Come on! Clean up, and then for some fun!" cried Phil. "We'll go hunt up the girls, as soon as we look decent again," he suggested to Tom and Sid, who nodded joyfully.

Langridge pa.s.sed Tom.

"It's only one game," growled the defeated pitcher. "We'll do you fellows next time!"

"You'll have the chance," retorted Tom good naturedly.

A little later the victorious pitcher, and his two chums, having donned their street clothes, were strolling across the field toward a knot of girls.