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The first man up for the Yankees drove a clean two-bagger down the right foul line; the second man laid down his life nobly with a beautiful bunt; the Boston pitcher gave a correct imitation of Orville Wright and presented free rides to the next two Highlanders; big Sweeney stalked to bat and the congregation prayed, standing.
Just as Dave had stepped away from the plate, Hutchins, the little first baseman of the Navy, had bounded forward. Hutchins was wholly cool, and had keen eye for batting. He hoped, despite what he had heard of Prescott's cleverness, to send Navy spirits booming by at least a two-bagger. "Strike one!" Prescott had not wasted any moments, this time, and Hutchins was caught unawares.
Whether or not his words had an effect, they proceeded to go after Oakes in a manner that might have discouraged any pitcher. Eliot, himself, started it with a screaming two-bagger, scoring on Crane's single. Sile took second on the throw to the plate, and stole third a moment later, romping to the pan after Cooper's fly to the outfield was caught.
"If we all show nerve like Dick's, then nothing but the hardest sort of luck can take this game away from us." Greg went first to bat, securing the first bag. Dick followed, with a two-bagger that brought frantic cheers from the on-looking Central Grammar boys. "There are our two runs -the ones we need," cheered Darrin to himself, as he snatched up his bat.
After that came a single, an out, a base on balls, another out, and a long two-bagger. Marty Smith, with the crowd imploring him to keep up the good work, struck out on three pitched balls, and not one of them was worth offering at. "Too bad," said Ted. "If that fellow could only hit he'd be a star." Meanwhile, Little Falls had not yet scored. Nor did she tally in the fourth.
Stringer had broken his slump with the longest drive ever made on the grounds. The crowd cheered as he trotted around the bases behind Ashwell. Two runs. "Con, how'd you like that drive?" he asked me, with a bright gleam in his eyes. "O-h-! a beaut!" I replied, incoherently. The players on the bench were all as glad as I was. Henley flew out to left. Mullaney smashed a two-bagger to right.
It was mainly Sparkfair's wonderful pitching that kept Frank and his friends from circling the bases. Dale had splendid speed, dazzling shoots, and masterly control. In the fifth the Merries tried the bunting game and filled the bases, with only one out. Badger then came up and smashed out a fine two-bagger, driving in three runs. Sparkfair then struck out Carson and Dunnerwurst.
Apparently, he had relaxed and was holding his bat carelessly, so Phil tried to push over a swift, straight one. With a smash Copley landed on the horsehide, driving it toward right field. "Ah!" gasped the spectators. "Go!" yelled Larkins. "Score on it, Whiting! It's a two-bagger!" Out there in right garden Rodney Grant was sprinting after that ball almost as it left Copley's bat.
Within a few moments both these runners advanced on a long fly to the outfield, dropped by Stone after a hard run. Springer forced a laugh. "Can't expect to hold the kids dud-down with that sort of support," he cried. He did strike the following hitter out; and then came Hooker, who found a bender and straightened it for a sizzling two-bagger that sent in both runners.
At least, that was what he felt. The Wayland man who now stood over the plate looked like a grinning monkey as he took the pitcher's measure. "Go to it, Dickson -kill the ball!" roared the visiting fans. "Just a little two-bagger -that's all!" Dick felt something fluttering inside. In himself he felt the whole Gridley honor and fame revolving during that moment.
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