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Updated: June 19, 2025
Barker of Roxley Farm, over by Blackstable Church, and I used to go and stay there often when I was a girl. Isn't that a funny thing now?" She looked at him with a new interest, and a brightness came into her faded eyes. She asked him whether he knew Ferne.
But it availed nothing, for Tom finished the inning with the Roxley runner getting no further than second. "Now, boys, we've got to do something," said the Brill captain, when the nine came in. "Two runs at least, and three if we can possibly get them." "What's the matter with half a dozen, while we are at it?" laughed the second baseman. "All right. As many as you please," returned Bob.
The second baseman caught the fly with ease. "Hurray! One down! Now for the other two!" The second man at the bat went out in one-two-three order. Then the third player up knocked a short fly to first. "Three out. That's the way to do it, Roxley!" "Now, for a few runs!" It must be confessed that Tom was a trifle nervous when he took the ball and walked down to the box.
The next man was put out with ease, and the side retired with the score reading: Roxley 7, Brill 8. "Now, if we can only hold them," was Spud's comment, as he glanced at Bob and then at Tom. "How about it?" he demanded, of the pitcher. "I'll do what I can," was Tom's simple answer. Nearly all the spectators in the grandstand and on the bleachers were now on their feet.
As the first man took his position, there were cries of all sorts, mingled with the tooting of many horns and the sounds of numerous rattles. "Now then, Brill, show 'em what you can do!" "Knock a home run first thing!" "Don't let 'em see first, Roxley! Kill 'em at the plate!" The Roxley pitcher took his position, wound up; and the ball came in quickly. "Ball one." "That's right!
A miss and the game would either become a tie or be won by Roxley. In came the ball, and the Roxley player swung at it viciously. "Strike one!" "Good boy, Tom, keep it up!" "Strike him out, old man!" Again Tom twirled the ball and sent it in. Just the instant before it left his hand, his foot slipped, and the sphere came in, not on a curve as the young pitcher had intended, but straight.
The eyes of over twelve hundred spectators were on him, and those included the eyes of the girl he thought the dearest in all the world. He gave a short sigh, and then suddenly braced up. "I've got to do it," he muttered to himself. "I've simply got to!" As was to be expected, Roxley had its best batters on the top of the list. The first fellow to face Tom was a hitter well-known for his prowess.
The ball was forced back by sheer weight of Roxley, but only for five yards. Then the Brill quarter-back got it, sent it over to Toms and in a twinkling Tom "nursed" it to where he wanted it and kicked a goal from the field. "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" "That's the way to do it!" "Now, then, for another!" "By the great Julius Caesar!" cried Sam. "Isn't that fine?"
The next man went out on a pop fly to third, which held Clink where he was. Following that came a safe hit which took the batter to first and allowed Clink to slide in with the first run. For the moment pandemonium seemed to break loose. The Roxley cohorts cheered wildly and sounded their horns and rattles. Brill, of course, had nothing to say.
Hold 'em!" was the Roxley cry. But it was not to be. The yard became two, and then the leather went over with a rush. "A touchdown! A touchdown for Brill!" "Now make it a goal!" was the cry, and a goal it became, the Brill quarter-back doing the kicking. From that moment on the battle waged with a fury seldom seen on any gridiron.
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