The High School Pitcher Part 30

"Oh, well, a tie doesn't score against Gridley," others added, consolingly.

In the five innings d.i.c.k Prescott had to run twice. The first time he was left at first base. The second time he had reached second, and was cautiously stealing third, when Gridley's batsman, Captain Purcell, struck his side out on a foul hit.

"How's your wrist holding up?" asked Purcell, in a low tone, as d.i.c.k came in.

"It feels strong.

"Do you think Darrin had better have the rest of the game?"

"Not on account of my wrist."

"But can you run the bases to the end?"

"If it doesn't call for any more running than we've had," smiled d.i.c.k.

Then he caught the ball, held it an instant, signaled, and let drive. It was the same Gardiner batsman whom Prescott had struck out at the opening of the game. This time the young giant got the range of the ball by sheer good guessing.

Crack! It soared. Right field ran backward after the ball.

Now the Gardiner fans were up and yelling like Comanches.

"Leg it, Prendergast!"

The runner touched first bag, then darted on for second. Right field was still after the ball.

"Whoop! He's pulverized the second bag!"

"Just look at third, old man, and come steaming home over the plate!"

That runner had been well trained. He was close upon third base and going with unabated speed.

He kicked the bag---then a warning cry told him that right field had the ball.

A swift look over his shoulder, and Prendergast fell back upon third just before the ball dropped into the third baseman's hands.

"Safe on third!" came the umpire's announcement. The ball arched over to d.i.c.k Prescott. Purcell signaled him to let the ball come in over the plate.

Now the air was all a-tingle. The visitors had a run in sight.

d.i.c.k felt the thrill, but steeled himself against any impulsiveness or loss of nerve. He signaled the drive, then let go. Three strikes and out, the ball all the while so closely under control that Prendergast fidgeted but did not dare steal far from third.

Then came Dowdy to the bat. He was far and away the best batsman from Gardiner. Prendergast began to edge in.

"Strike one!" from the umpire.

Crack! The leather hung low, a little to the left of shortstop, who raced after it. Prendergast was going in at a tremendous clip. As shortstop reached the ball, he swooped down on it, stopped its rolling, and rising quickly, hurled it in across the plate.

Purcell was waiting, and made a good catch. It looked close.

Everyone eyed Umpire Foley.

"Runner safe home," he decided.

There was a gasp of disappointment, but the decision was fair.

Prendergast had made good by a fraction of a second---and there was a man on first.

"Oh, d.i.c.k! Oh, Prescott!" wailed the home fans. "We look to you."

d.i.c.k's answer was to strike the next man out, with never a chance for the man on first to steal away from Dalzell and make second.

Then a short fly filled first and second. d.i.c.k struck out a second man---then a third.

But this was getting on Gridley's nerves. Despite Prescott's fine pitching, it began to look as though Gardiner High School was fitted for getting the only one or two runs that the game would witness.

In the eighth, Gardiner got a second run, but that inning closed with Gridley as much "stumped" as ever.

"Why play the ninth?" yelled one of the visitor fans. "Let's go and drink tea. Gridley boys are nice little fellows, but-----"

"How's that wrist?" asked Captain Purcell, anxiously, as the players changed places to begin the ninth. Coach Luce had stepped close, too, and looked anxious.

"Just a bit lame, of course," d.i.c.k admitted. "But I'm going to pull through."

"You're sure about it?" Purcell asked.

"Sure enough!"

The first Gardiner man to bat went out on the third ball sent past him. Then a second. Now came Prendergast to the bat, blood in his eye. He glared grimly at young Prescott, as though to say:

"Now, I'll take it out of you for making a comedian of me the first time I held the stick!"

d.i.c.k felt, somehow, that Prendergast would make good.

The first ball that Prescott put over the plate was a called strike.

At the second serve---

Crack! and Prendergast was running.

Dan Dalzell gauged the flight of that ball better than anyone else on the diamond. He side-stepped like a flash, falling back a couple of paces. Then pulling the leather down out of the air, he leaped back to first. He was holding the ball in his left hand when Prendergast, breathing fast, hopped at the bag.

"Runner out!" called Umpire Foley. Prendergast stamped back, with a look of huge disgust. And now Gridley came in at the bat.

"It's no use! We're whipped!" That was the comment everywhere as Gridley came in from the field prepared for a last effort.

Gridley's first and second men went bad---the first struck out, and the second knocked a foul bit that was caught.

"Greg, you've got to go to bat next," whispered d.i.c.k to Holmes, just a moment before. "Oh, _don't_ you strike out. Hit something drive it somewhere. Remember Gridley can't and won't lose! Get the Gridley spirit soaked into you instanter. Chase that leather _somewhere_!"

Gardiner's pitcher, his face beaming, faced Holmes, whom he did not regard as one of the team's heavyweights in batting skill.

Visiting fans were rising, preparing to leave the stand.

"Strike one!"

"There he goes!"