``Thereheis。Grabhim，somebody，’’yelledHuling。
``Dosomethingforme，quick，’’imploredWayneofthecaptain，ashesawtheyoungpeoplewavetowardhim。
``Salisburyisyourstonight，’’repliedHuling``Askyoursistertosavemeonedance。’’
Thenhegavehimselfup。Hetookhismeedofpraiseandflattery，andhewithstoodthebatteryofarcheyesmodestly，asbecamethewinnerofmanyfields。ButeventhereceptionafterthePrincetongamepaledincomparisonwiththisimpromptudance。
Shewashere。Alwaysitseemed，whilehelistenedortalkedordanced，hiseyesweredrawntoaslender，gracefulform，andafairfacecrownedwithgoldenhair。Thenhewasmakinghiswaytowhereshestoodnearoneoftheopenwindows。
Heneverknewwhathesaidtoher，norwhatreplyshemade，butsheputherarminhis，andpresentlytheywereglidingoverthepolishedfloor。ToWaynethedancewasadream。Heledherthroughthehallandoutuponthebalcony，wherecomposurestrangelycametohim。
``Mr。Wayne，Ihavetothankyouforsavingthedayforus。Youpitchedmagnificently。’’
``Iwouldhavebrokenmyarmtowinthatgame，’’burstoutWayne。``MissHuling，Imadeablunderyesterday。IthoughttherewasaconspiracytopersuademetothrowdownBellville。
I’veknownofsuchthings，andIresentedit。
YouunderstandwhatIthought。Ihumblyoffermyapologies，andbegthatyouforgettherudeobligationIforceduponyou。’’
Howcoldshewas！Howunattainableinthatmoment！Hecaughthisbreath，andrushedon。
``YourbrotherandthemanagementoftheclubhaveaskedmetopitchforSalisburytheremainderoftheseason。Ishallbehappyto——if————’’
``Ifwhat？’’Shewasallalivenow，flushingwarmly，darkeyesalight，thegirlofhisdreams。
``Ifyouwillforgiveme——ifyouwillletmebeyourfriend——if——MissHuling，youwillagainwearthatbitofYaleblue。’’
``If，Mr。Wayne，youhadverysharpeyesyouwouldhavenoticedthatIstillwearit！’’
THEMANAGEROFMADDEN’SHILL
WillieHowarthlovedbaseball。Heloveditallthemorebecausehewasacripple。Thegamewasmorebeautifulandwonderfultohimbecausehewouldneverbeabletoplayit。ForWilliehadbeenbornwithonelegshorterthantheother;
hecouldnotrunandat11yearsofageitwasallhecoulddotowalkwithacrutch。
NeverthelessWillieknewmoreaboutbaseballthananyotherboyonMadden’sHill。AnuncleofhishadoncebeenaballplayerandhehadtaughtWilliethefinepointsofthegame。Andthisuncle’sballplayerfriends，whooccasionallyvisitedhim，hadimpartedtoWilliethevernacularofthegame。SothatWillie’sknowledgeofplayersandplay，andparticularlyofthestrangetalk，thewildandwhirlingwordsonthelipsoftherealbaseballmen，madehimtheenvyofeveryboyonMadden’sHill，andamineofinformation。Willienevermissedattendingthegamesplayedonthelots，andhecouldtellwhytheywerewonorlost。
Williesufferedconsiderablepain，mostlyatnight，andthishadgivenhimahabitoflyingawakeinthedarkhours，grievingoverthatcrookedlegthatforevershuthimoutoftheheritageofyouth。Hehadkepthissecretwell;hewasaccountedshybecausehewasquietandhadneverbeenabletominglewiththeboysintheiractivity。
Nooneexcepthismotherdreamedofthefireandhungerandpainwithinhisbreast。Hisschool—
matescalledhim``Daddy。’’Itwasanamegivenforhisbentshoulders，hislaboredgaitandhisthoughtfulface，toooldforhisyears。Andnoone，notevenhismother，guessedhowthatnamehurtWillie。
ItwasasourceofgrowingunhappinesswithWilliethattheMadden’sHillboyswerealwaysbeatenbytheotherteamsofthetown。HereallycametolosehissadnessoverhisownmisfortuneinponderingonthewretchedplayoftheMadden’sHillbaseballclub。Hehadallaboy’sprideinthelocalitywherehelived。AndwhentheBogg’sFarmteamadministeredacrushingdefeattoMadden’sHill，Williegrewdesperate。
MondayhemetLaneGriffith，thecaptainoftheMadden’sHillnine。
``Hello，Daddy，’’saidLane。Hewasabig，aggressiveboy，andinawayhadafondnessforWillie。
``Lane，yougotanorfultrimmin’upontheBoggs。What’dyouwanterletthemcountryjakesbeatyoufor？’’
``Aw，Daddy，theywaslucky。Umpirehadhay—
seedinhiseyes！Robbedus！Hecouldn’tseestraight。We’lltrimthemdownhereSaturday。’’
``No，youwon’t——notwithoutteamwork。Lane，you’vegottohaveamanager。’’
``Durnit！Where’rewegoin’togetone？’’
Laneblurtedout。
``Youcansignme。Ican’tplay，butIknowthegame。Letmecoachtheboys。’’
TheideaseemedtostrikeCapt。Griffithfavorably。HeprevaileduponalltheboyslivingonMadden’sHilltocomeoutforpracticeafterschool。Thenhepresentedthemtothemanagingcoach。TheboyswereinclinedtopokefunatDaddyHowarthandridiculehim;buttheideawasanoveloneandtheywereinsuchastateofsubjectionfrommanybeatingsthattheywelcomedanychange。Williesatonabenchimprovisedfromasoapboxandputthemthroughadrillofbattingandfielding。Thenextdayinhiscoachingheincludedbuntingandsliding。Heplayedhismenindifferentpositionsandforthreemoredayshedrovethemunmercifully。
WhenSaturdaycame，thedayforthegamewithBogg’sFarm，awildprotestwentupfromtheboys。Willieexperiencedhisfirstbitternessasamanager。OutoffortyaspirantsfortheMadden’sHillteamhecouldchoosebutninetoplaythegame。Andasaconscientiousmanagerhecouldusenofavorites。Williepickedthebestplayersandassignedthemtopositionsthat，inhisjudgment，werethebestsuitedtothem。BobIrvinewantedtoplayfirstbaseandhewasdownforrightfield。SamWickhartthoughthewasthefastestfielder，andWilliehadhimslatedtocatch。
TomLindsay’sfeelingswerehurtbecausehewasnottoplayintheinfield。EddieCurtissufferedafallinpridewhenhediscoveredhewasnotdowntoplaysecondbase。JakeThomas，Tay—TayMohlerandBrickGraceallwantedtopitch。ThemanagerhadchosenFrankPriceforthatimportantposition，andFrank’soneambitionwastobeashortstop。
Sotherewasadeadlock。Forawhilethereseemednopossibilityofagame。Williesatonthebench，thecenterofacrowdofdiscontented，quarrelingboys。Somewerejealous，somewereoutraged，sometriedtopacifyandpersuadetheothers。Allwerenoisy。LaneGriffithstoodbyhismanagerandstoutlydeclaredtheplayersshouldplaythepositionstowhichtheyhadbeenassignedornotatall。AndhewasenteringintoahotargumentwithTomLindsaywhentheBogg’sFarmteamarrogantlyputinanappearance。
Thewaythatteamfromthecountrywalkedoutuponthefieldmadeagreatdifference。ThespiritofMadden’sHillrousedtobattle。Thegamebeganswiftlyandwentonwildly。ItendedalmostbeforetheHillboysrealizedithadcommenced。
TheydidnotknowhowtheyhadwonbuttheygaveDaddyHowarthcreditforit。Theyhadabonfirethatnighttocelebratethevictoryandtheytalkedbaseballuntiltheirparentsbecamealarmedandhuntedthemup。
Madden’sHillpracticedallthatnextweekandonSaturdaybeattheSeventhWardteam。Infourmoreweekstheyhadaddedhalfadozenmorevictoriestotheirrecord。Theirreputationwentabroad。Theygotuniforms，andbaseballshoeswithspikes，andbatsandballsandgloves。Theygotamask，butSamWickhartrefusedtocatchwithit。
``Sam，oneofthesedaysyou’llbestoppin’ahighinshootwithyoureye，’’sagelyremarkedDaddyHowarth。``An’thenwhere’llIgetacatcherfortheNatchezgame？’’
NatchezwastheonenameonthelipsofeveryMadden’sHillboy。ForNatchezhadthegreatteamofthetownand，rousedbythegrowingreputeoftheHillclub，hadcondescendedtoarrangeagame。WhenthatgamewasscheduledforJulyFourthDaddyHowarthsettodrivinghismen。
Earlyandlatehehadthemout。Thismanager，inkeepingwithallotherfamousmanagers，believedthatbattingwasthethingwhichwongames。Hedevelopedahard—hittingteam。Hekepteverlastinglyatthemtohitandrun，hitandrun。
OntheSaturdaybeforetheFourth，Madden’sHillhadagametoplaythatdidnotworryDaddyandhelefthisteaminchargeofthecaptain。
``Fellers，I’mgoin’downtotheRoundHousetoseeNatchezplay。I’llsizeuptheirgame，’’
saidDaddy。
Whenhereturnedhewasgladtofindthathisteamhadwonitsninthstraightvictory，buthewasnotcommunicativeinregardtotheplayingoftheNatchezclub。Heappearedmorethanusuallythoughtful。
TheFourthfellonTuesday。DaddyhadtheboysoutMondayandheletthemtakeonlyashort，sharppractice。Thenhesentthemhome。
Inhisownmind，DaddydidnothavemuchhopeofbeatingNatchez。Hehadbeengreatlyimpressedbytheirplaying，andoneinningtowardthecloseoftheRoundHousegametheyhadastonishedhimwiththewaytheysuddenlyseemedtobreaklooseanddelugetheiropponentsinafloodofhitsandruns。Hecouldnotunderstandthisstreakoftheirs——fortheydidthesamethingeverytimetheyplayed——andhewastoogoodabaseballstudenttocallitluck。
Hehadneverwantedanythinginhislife，noteventohavetwogoodlegs，asmuchashewantedtobeatNatchez。FortheMadden’sHillboyshadcometobelievehiminfallible。Hewastheiridol。
Theyimaginedtheyhadonlytohitandrun，tofightandnevergiveup，andDaddywouldmakethemwin。TherewasnotaboyontheteamwhobelievedthatNatchezhadachance。Theyhadgrownproudandtenaciousoftheirdearlywonreputation。Firstofall，Daddythoughtofhisteamandtheirloyaltytohim;thenhethoughtoftheglorylatelycometoMadden’sHill，andlastlyofwhatitmeanttohimtohaverisenfromalonelywatcherofthegame——acripplewhocouldnotevencarryabat——tomanagerofthefamousHillteam。
Itmightgohardwiththeboystolosethisgame，butitwouldbreakhisheart。
FromtimeoutofmindtherehadalwaysbeenrivalrybetweenMadden’sHillandNatchez。Andthereisnorivalrysobitterasthatbetweenboys。
SoDaddy，ashelayawakeatnightplanningthesystemofplayhewantedtouse，leftoutofallaccountanypossibilityofapeacefulgame。ItwascomfortingtothinkthatifitcametoafightSamandLanecouldholdtheirownwithBoStranathanandSluggerBlandy。
InthemanagingofhisplayersDaddyobservedstrictdiscipline。Itwasnounusualthingforhimtofinethem。Onpracticedaysandoffthefieldtheyimplicitlyobeyedhim。Duringactualplay，however，theyhadevincedatendencytojumpoverthetraces。IthadbeenhisorderforthemnottoreportatthefieldTuesdayuntil2o’clock。
Hefounditextremelydifficulttocurbhisowninclinationtostartbeforethesettime。AndonlythesterndutyofamantobeanexampletohisplayerskeptDaddyathome。
Helivedneartheballgrounds，yetonthisday，ashehobbledalongonhiscrutch，hethoughtthedistanceinterminablylong，andforthefirsttimeinweekstheoldsickeningresentmentathisuselesslegknockedathisheart。ManfullyDaddyrefusedadmittancetothatoldgloomyvisitor。
Hefoundcomfortandforgetfulnessinthethoughtthatnostrongandswift—leggedboyofhisacquaintancecoulddowhathecoulddo。
UponarrivingatthefieldDaddywasamazedtoseesuchalargecrowd。Itappearedthatalltheboysandgirlsinthewholetownwereinattendance，and，besides，therewasasprinklingofgrown—uppeopleinterspersedhereandtherearoundthediamond。ApplausegreetedDaddy’sappearanceandmembersofhisteamescortedhimtothesoap—boxbench。
DaddycastasharpeyeovertheNatchezplayerspracticingonthefield。BoStranathanhadouthisstrongestteam。Theywerenotaprepossessingnine。Theyworesoileduniformsthatdidnotmatchincutorcolor。Buttheyprancedandswaggeredandstrutted！Theywereboastfulandboisterous。ItwasatrialforanyMadden’sHillboyjusttowatchthem。
``Wotaswelledbunch！’’exclaimedTomLindsay。
``Fellers，ifSluggerBlandytriestopullanystuntonmetodayhe’llgetaswelledernut，’’
growledLaneGriffith。
``T—t—t—t—t—te—te—tellhimt—t—t—tokeepoutofm—m—m—mywayan’notb—b—b—b—bl—blockme，’’
stutteredTay—TayMohler。
``We’rea—goin’toskin’em，’’saidEddieCurtis。
``Cheeseit，youkids，tillwegitinthegame，’’
orderedDaddy。``Now，Madden’sHill，hangroundan’listen。IhadtosignarticleswithNatchez——hadtoletthemhavetheirumpire。Sowe’reupagainstit。Butwe’llhitthispitcherMuckleHarris。Heain’tgotanysteam。An’heain’tgotmuchnerve。NoweveryfellerwhogoesuptobatwantstotalktoMuck。Callhimabigswelledstiff。Tellhimhecan’tbreakapaneofglass——tellhimhecan’tputoneoverthepan——
tellhimithedoesyou’llslamitdowninthesandbank。Bluffthewholeteam。Keepscrappyallthetime。See！That’smygametoday。ThisNatchezbunchneedstobegoneafter。Hollerattheumpire。Actlikeyouwanttofight。’’
ThenDaddysenthismenoutforpractice。
``Boss，ennygroundrules？’’inquiredBoStranathan。Hewasabig，bushy—hairedboywithagrinandprotrudingteeth。``Howmanybasesonwildthrowsoverfirstbasean’hitsoverthesandbank？’’
``Allyoucanget，’’repliedDaddy，withamagnanimouswaveofhand。
``Huh！Lemmeeseeyourball？’’
DaddyproducedtheballthathehadLanehadmadeforthegame。
``Huh！Watcherthink？Weain’tgoin’toplaywithnomushballlikethet，’’protestedBo。``Weplaywithahardball。Lookahere！We’lltrowuptheball。’’
DaddyrememberedwhathehadheardaboutthesingulargenerosityoftheNatchezteamtosupplytheballsforthegamestheyplayed。
``Wedon’thevtopaynothin’ferthemballs。
AmandownattheRoundHousemakesthemforus。Theyain’tnoballsasgood，’’explainedBo，withpride。
However，asBodidnotappeareagertopassovertheballsforexaminationDaddysimplyreachedoutandtookthem。Theyweresmall，perfectlyroundandashardasbullets。Theyhadnocovers。Theyarnhadbeencloselyandtightlywrappedandthenstitchedoverwithfinebees—
waxedthread。Daddyfanciedhedetectedadifferenceintheweightoftheball，butBotookthembackbeforeDaddycouldbesureofthatpoint。
``Youdon’thavetofanaboutit。IknowaballwhenIseeone，’’observedDaddy。``Butwe’reonourowngroundsan’we’lluseourownball。
Thanksallthesametoyou，Stranathan。’’
``Huh！AllIgottasayiswe’llplaywithmyballertherewon’tbenogame，’’saidBosuddenly。
DaddyshrewdlyeyedtheNatchezcaptain。Bodidnotlooklikeafellowwearinghimselfthinfromgenerosity。ItstruckDaddythatBo’shabitofsupplyingtheballforthegamemighthavesomerelationtothefactthathealwayscarriedalonghisownumpire。TherewasastrangefeatureaboutthisumpirebusinessanditwasthatBo’smanhadearnedareputationforbeingparticularlyfair。NoboyeverhadanyrealreasontoobjecttoUmpireGale’sdecisions。WhenGaleumpiredawayfromtheNatchezgroundshisclosedecisionsalwaysfavoredtheotherteam，ratherthanhisown。ItallmadeDaddykeenandthoughtful。
``Stranathan，uphereonMadden’sHillweknowhowtotreatvisitors。We’llplaywithyourball……Nowkeepyourgangofrootersfromcrowdin’onthediamond。’’
``Boss，it’syourgrounds。Fire’emoffiftheydon’tsuityou……Comeon，let’sgitinthegame。Watcherwant——fielderbat？’’
``Field，’’repliedDaddybriefly。
BillyGalecalled``Play，’’andthegamebeganwithSluggerBlandyatbat。TheformidablewayinwhichheswunghisclubdidnotappeartohaveanyeffectonFrankPriceortheplayerbackofhim。Frank’smostsuccessfulpitchwasaslow，tantalizingcurve，andheusedit。Blandylungedattheball，misseditandgrunted。
``Frank，yougothisalley，’’calledLane。
Sluggerfouledthenextonehighintheairbackoftheplate。SamWickhart，thestockybowleggedcatcher，wasafiendforrunningafterfoulflies，andnowheplungedintothecrowdofboys，knockingthemrightandleft，andhecaughttheball。WhisnercameupandhitsafelyoverGriffith，whereupontheNatchezsupportersbegantohowl。KellysentagroundertoGraceatshortstop。Daddy’sweakplayermadeapoorthrowtofirstbase，sotherunnerwassafe。ThenBoStranathanbattedastingingballthroughtheinfield，scoringWhisner。
``Playthebatter！Playthebatter！’’sharplycalledDaddyfromthebench。
ThenFrankstruckoutMolloyandretiredDundononaneasyfly。
``Fellers，gitinthegamenow，’’orderedDaddy，ashisplayerseagerlytrottedin。``SaythingstothatMuckleHarris！We’llwalkthroughthisgamelikesandthroughasieve。’’
BobIrvinrantotheplatewavinghisbatatHarris。
``Putoneover，youfreckleface！I’vebeendyin’
ferthischanst。You’reonMadden’sHillnow。’’
Muckleevidentlywasnotthekindofpitchertostandcoollyundersuchbantering。Obviouslyhewasnotusedtoit。Hisfacegrewredandhishairwavedup。Swinginghard，hethrewtheballstraightatBob’shead。Quickasacat，Bobdroppedflat。
``Nevertouchedme！’’hechirped，jumpingupandpoundingtheplatewithhisbat。``Youcouldn’thitabarndoor。Comeon。I’llpasteoneamile！’’
Bobdidnotgetanopportunitytohit，forHarriscouldnotlocatetheplateandpassedhimtofirstonfourballs。
``Dumpthefirstone，’’whisperedDaddyinGrace’sear。ThenhegaveBobasignaltorunonthefirstpitch。
Gracetriedtobuntthefirstball，buthemissedit。Hisattempt，however，wassoviolentthathefelloverinfrontofthecatcher，whocouldnotrecoverintimetothrow，andBobgottosecondbase。Atthisjuncture，theMadden’sHillbandofloyalsupportersopenedupwithaminglingofshrillyellsandwhistlesandjanglingoftincansfilledwithpebbles。Gracehitthenextballintosecondbaseand，whilehewasbeingthrownout，Bobracedtothird。WithSamWickhartupitlookedgoodforascore，andthecrowdyelledlouder。Samwasawkwardyetefficient，andhebattedalongflytorightfield。Thefieldermuffedtheball。Bobscored，Samreachedsecondbase，andthecrowdyelledstilllouder。ThenLanestruckoutandMohlerhittoshortstop，retiringtheside。
Natchezscoredarunonahit，abaseonballs，andanothererrorbyGrace。EverytimeaballwenttowardGraceatshortDaddygroaned。IntheirhalfoftheinningMadden’sHillmadetworuns，increasingthescore3to2。
TheMadden’sHillboysbegantoshowthestrainofsuchaclosecontest。IfDaddyhadvoicedaloudhisfearitwouldhavebeen：``They’llblowupinaminnit！’’FrankPricealonewasslowandcool，andhepitchedinmasterlystyle。
Natchezcouldnotbeathim。Ontheotherhand，Madden’sHillhitMuckHarrishard，butsuperbfieldingkeptrunnersoffthebases。AsDaddy’steambecamemoretenseandexcitedBoStranathan’splayersgrewsteadierandmorearrogantlyconfident。Daddysawitwithdistress，andhecouldnotrealizejustwhereNatchezhadlicenseforsuchconfidence。Daddywatchedthegamewiththeeyesofahawk。
AstheNatchezplayerstroopedinfortheirsixthinningatbat，Daddyobservedamarkedchangeintheirdemeanor。Suddenlytheyseemedtohavebeenletloose;theywerelikeabandofIndians。Daddysaweverything。HedidnotmissseeingUmpireGaletakeaballfromhispocketandtossittoFrank，andDaddywonderedifthatwastheballwhichhadbeenintheplay。Straightway，however，heforgotthatintheinterestofthegame。
BoStranathanbawled：``Wull，Injuns，hyar’swerewedo’em。We’vejestbenloafin’along。Gitreadytoteartheair，yourooters！’’
Kellyhitawonderfullyswiftballthroughtheinfield。Bobattedoutasingle。MalloygotupinthewayofoneofFrank’spitches，andwaspassedtofirstbase。Then，astheNatchezcrowdopenedupinshrillclamor，theimpendingdisasterfell。Dundonhitabounderdownintotheinfield。
Theballappearedtobeendowedwithlife。Itboundedlow，thenhighand，crackingintoGrace’shands，bouncedoutandrolledaway。Therunnersracedaroundthebases。
Pickenssentupatremendousfly，thehighesteverbattedonMadden’sHill。ItwentoverTomLindsayincenterfield，andTomranandran。
TheballwentsofarupthatTomhadtimetocovertheground，buthecouldnotjudgeit。Heranroundinalittlecircle，withhandsupinbewilderment。Andwhentheballdroppedithithimontheheadandboundedaway。
``Run，youInjun，run！’’bawledBo。``What’dItellyou？Weain’tgot’emgoin’，oh，no！Hittin’
’emonthehead！’’
Billdroppedaslow，teasingballdownthethird—
baseline。JakeThomasrandesperatelyforit，andtheballappearedtostrikehishandsandrunuphisarmsandcaresshisnoseandwrapitselfroundhisneckandthenrollgentlyaway。Allthewhile，theNatchezrunnerstorewildlyaboutthebasesandtheNatchezsupportersscreamedandwhistled。MuckHarriscouldnotbat，yethehitthefirstballanditshotlikeabulletovertheinfield。ThenSluggerBlandycametotheplate。
heballhesentoutknockedGrace’slegfromunderhimasifitwereaten—pin。WhisnerpoppedaflyoverTayTayMohler’shead。NowTayTaywasfatandslow，buthewasasurecatch。Hegotundertheball。Itstruckhishandsandjumpedbacktwentyfeetupintotheair。Itwasastrangelyliveball。Kellyagainhittoshortstop，andtheballappearedtostartslow，togatherspeedwitheveryboundandatlasttodartlowandshootbetweenGrace’slegs。
``Haw！Haw！’’roaredBo。``They’vegotaholeatshort。Hitferthehole，fellers。Watchme！Jestwatchme！’’
Andheswunghardonthefirstpitch。TheballglancedlikeastreakstraightatGrace，tookaviciousjump，andseemedtoflirtwiththeinfielder’shands，onlytoevadethem。
MalloyfouledapitchandtheballhitSamWickhartsquareovertheeye。Sam’seyepoppedoutandassumedtheproportionsandcolorofahugeplum。
``Hey！’’yelledBlandy，therivalcatcher。``Airyouketchin’withyermug？’’
Samwouldnotdelaythegamenorwouldhedonthemask。
Daddysathunchedonhissoap—box，and，asinahatefuldream，hesawhisfamousteamgotopieces。Heputhishandsoverhisearstoshutoutsomeoftheuproar。Andhewatchedthatlittleyarnballflyandshootandboundandrolltocrushhisfondesthopes。Notoneofhisplayersappearedabletoholdit。AndGracehadholesinhishandsandlegsandbody。Theballwentrightthroughhim。Hemightaswellhavebeensomuchwater。Insteadofbeingashortstophewassimplyahole。AftereveryhitDaddysawthatballmoreandmoreassomethingalive。Itsportedwithhisinfielders。Itboundedlikeahugejack—rabbit，andwentswifterandhigherateverybound。Itwashere，there，everywhere。
Anditbecameaninfernalball。Itbecameendowedwithafiendishpropensitytorunupaplayer’slegandallabouthim，asiftryingtohideinhispocket。Grace’seffortstofinditwereheartbreakingtowatch。Everytimeitboundedouttocenterfield，whichwasoffrequentoccurrence，Tomwouldfallonitandhugitasifheweretryingtocaptureafleeingsquirrel。TayTayMohlercouldstoptheball，butthatwasnogreatcredittohim，forhishandstooknopartintheachievement。TayTaywasfatandtheballseemedtolikehim。Itboomedintohisstomachandbangedagainsthisstoutlegs。WhenTaysawitcominghedroppedonhiskneesandvalorouslysacrificedhisanatomytothecauseofthegame。
Daddytriednottonoticethescoringofrunsbyhisopponents。Buthehadtoseethemandhehadtocount。Tenrunswereastenblows！Afterthateachrunscoredwaslikeastabinhisheart。
Theplaywenton，aterriblefusiladeofwickedgroundballsthatbaffledanyattempttofieldthem。
Then，withnineteenrunsscored，Natchezappearedtotire。Samcaughtafoulfly，andTayTay，byobtrudinghiswidepersontothepathofinfieldhits，managedtostopthem，andthrowouttherunners。
Score——Natchez，21;MaddenHill，3。
Daddy’sboysslouchedandlimpedwearilyin。
``Wotkindofaball’sthat？’’pantedTom，asheshowedhisheadwithabruiseaslargeasagoose—egg。
``T—t—t—t—ta—ta—tay—tay—tay—tay————’’beganMohler，ingreatexcitement，butashecouldnotfinishwhathewantedtosaynoonecaughthismeaning。
Daddy’swatchfuleyehadneverleftthatwonderful，infernallittleyarnball。Daddywascrushedunderdefeat，buthisbaseballbrainsstillcontinuedtowork。HesawUmpireGaleleisurelystepintothepitcher’sbox，andleisurelypickuptheballandstarttomakeamotiontoputitinhispocket。
SuddenlyfireflashedalloverDaddy。
``Hyar！Don’thidethatball！’’heyelled，inhispiercingtenor。
Hejumpedupquickly，forgettinghiscrutch，andfellheadlong。LaneandSamgothimuprightandhandedthecrutchtohim。Daddybegantohobbleouttothepitcher’sbox。
``Don’tyouhidethatball。See！I’vegotmyeyeonthisgame。Thatballwasinplay，an’youcan’tusetheother。’’
UmpireGalelookedsheepish，andhiseyesdidnotmeetDaddy’s。ThenBocametrottingup。
``What’swrong，boss？’’heasked。
``Aw，nuthin’。You’retryin’toswitchballsonme。That’sall。Youcan’tpulloffanystuntsonMadden’sHill。’’
``Why，boss，thetball’sallright。Whatyouhollerin’about？’’
``Surethatball’sallright，’’repliedDaddy。
``It’safineball。An’wewantachansttohitit！
See？’’
Boflaredupandtriedtobluster，butDaddycuthimshort。
``Giveusourinnin’——letusgitawhackatthatball，orI’llrunyouoffMadden’sHill。’’
Bosuddenlylookedalittlepaleandsick。
``Courseyousecangitawhackatit，’’hesaid，inaweakattempttobenaturalanddignified。
DaddytossedtheballtoHarris，andashehobbledoffthefieldheheardBocallingoutlowandcautiouslytohisplayers。ThenDaddywascertainhehaddiscoveredatrick。Hecalledhisplayersaroundhim。
``Thisgameain’toveryet。Itain’tanymore’nbegun。I’lltellyouwhat。Lastinnin’Bo’sumpireswitchedballsonus。Thatballwaslively。
An’theytriedtoswitchbackonme。Butnix！
We’regoin’togitachansttohitthatlivelyball，An’they’regoin’togitadoseoftheirownmedicine。Now，youdeadones——comebacktolife！
Showmesomehittin’an’runnin’。’’
``Daddy，youmeantheyruninatrickonus？’’
demandedLane，withflashingeyes。
``FunnyaboutNatchez’sstrongfinishes！’’
repliedDaddy，coolly，asheeyedhisangryplayers。
Theyletoutaroar，andthenranforthebats。
Thecrowd，quicktosensewhatwasintheair，throngedtothediamondandmanifestedalarmingsignsofoutbreak。
SamWickhartleapedtotheplateandbandishedhisclub。
``Sam，lethimpitchacouple，’’calledDaddyfromthebench。``Mebbewe’llgitwisethen。’’
Harrishadpitchedonlytwicewhenthefactbecameplainthathecouldnotthrowthisballwiththesamespeedastheother。Theballwasheavier;besidesHarriswasalsogrowingtired。
ThenextpitchSamhitfaroutoverthecenterfielder’sheadforahomerun。ItwasalongerhitthananyMadden’sHillboyhadevermade。
Thecrowdshriekeditsdelight。SamcrossedtheplateandthenfellonthebenchbesideDaddy。
``Say！thatballnearlyknockedthebatoutofmyhands，’’pantedSam。``Itmadethebatspring！’’
``Fellers，don’twait，’’orderedDaddy。``Don’tgivetheumpireachansttoroastusnow。Slamthefirstball！’’
TheaggressivecaptainlinedtheballatBoStranathan。TheNatchezshortstophadafineopportunitytomakethecatch，buthemadeaningloriousmuff。TayTayhurriedtobat。UmpireGalecalledthefirstpitchastrike。Tayslammeddownhisclub。``T—t—t—t—to—to—twasn’tover，’’hecried。``T—t—t—tay————’’
``Shutup，’’yelledDaddy。``Wewanttogitthisgameovertoday。’’
TayTaywasfatandhewasalsostrong，sothatwhenbeefandmusclebothwenthardagainsttheballittraveled。Itlookedasifitweregoingamilestraightup。Alltheinfieldersrantogetunderit。Theygotintoatangle，intowhichtheballdescended。Noonecaughtit，andthereupontheNatchezplayersbegantorailatoneanother。
Bostormedatthem，andtheytalkedbacktohim。
ThenwhenTomLindsayhitalittleslowgrounderintotheinfielditseemedthatajustretributionhadovertakenthegreatNatchezteam。
OrdinarilythisgrounderofTom’swouldhavebeeneasyforanovicetofield。Butthispeculiargrounder，afterithashitthegroundonce，seemedtowakeupandfeellively。Itlostitsleisurelyactionandbegantohavecelerity。WhenitreachedDundonithadthestrange，jerkyspeedsocharacteristicofthegroundersthathadconfusedtheMadden’sHillteam。Dundongothishandsontheballanditwouldnotstayinthem。WhenfinallyhetrappeditTomhadcrossedfirstbaseandanotherrunnerhadscored。EddieCurtiscrackedanotheratBo。TheNatchezcaptaindoveforit，madeagoodstop，bouncedaftertherollingball，andthenthrewtoKellyatfirst。TheballknockedKelly’shandsapartasiftheyhadbeenpaper。JakeThomasbattedlefthandedandheswunghardonaslowpitchandsenttheballfarintorightfield。Runnersscored。Jake’shitwasathree—bagger。ThenFrankPricehitupaninfieldfly。BoyelledforDundontotakeitandDundonyelledforHarris。Theywereallafraidtotryforit。ItdroppedsafelywhileJakeranhome。
Withtheheavybattersuptheexcitementincreased。Acontinuousscreamandincessantrattleoftincansmadeitimpossibletohearwhattheumpirecalledout。Butthatwasnotimportant，forheseldomhadachancetocalleitherballorstrike。HarrishadlosthisspeedandnearlyeveryballhepitchedwashitbytheMadden’sHillboys。Irvinecrackedonedownbetweenshortandthird。BoandPickensranforitandcollidedwhiletheballjauntilyskippedouttoleftfieldand，deftlyevadingBell，wentonandon。Bobreachedthird。GracehitanotheratDundon，whoappearedactuallytostopitfourtimesbeforehecouldpickitup，andthenhewastoolate。Thedoughtybow—leggedSam，withhishugeblackeye，hungovertheplateandhowledatMuckle。Inthedinnooneheardwhathesaid，butevidentlyMuckdivinedit。Forherousedtothespiritofapitcherwhowoulddieofshameifhecouldnotfoolaone—eyedbatter。ButSamswoopeddownanduponthefirstballanddroveitbacktowardthepitcher。Muckcouldnotgetoutofthewayandtheballmadehislegbuckleunderhim。Thenthathitglancedofftobeginamarvelousexhibitionofhighanderraticboundingabouttheinfield。
Daddyhunchedoverhissoap—boxbenchandhuggedhimself。Hewasfarsightedandhesawvictory。Againhewatchedthequeeranticsofthatlittleyarnball，butnowwithdifferentfeelings。
Everyhitseemedtolifthimtotheskies。Hekeptsilent，thougheverytimetheballfooledaNatchezplayerDaddywantedtoyell。AndwhenitstartedforBoand，asifinrevenge，boundedwickederateverybouncetoskipoffthegrassandmakeBolookridiculous，thenDaddyexperiencedthehappiestmomentsofhisbaseballcareer。Everytimeatallycrossedtheplatehewouldchalkitdownonhissoapbox。
ButwhenMadden’sHillscoredthenineteenthrunwithoutaplayerbeingputout，thenDaddylostcount。Hegavehimselfuptorevel。Hesatmotionlessandsilent;neverthelesshiswholeinternalbeingwasinthestateofwildtumult。Itwasasifhewasbeingrewardedinjoyforallthemiseryhehadsufferedbecausehewasacripple。
Hecouldneverplaybaseball。buthehadbaseballbrains。HehadbeentoowiseforthetrickyStranathan。HewasthecoachandmanagerandgeneralofthegreatMadden’sHillnine。
Ifeverhehadtolieawakeatnightagainhewouldnotmournoverhislameness;hewouldhavesomethingtothinkabout。TohimwouldbegiventhegloryofbeatingtheinvincibleNatchezteam。SoDaddyfeltthelastbitternessleavehim。Andhewatchedthatstrangelittleyarnball，withitswonderfulskipsanddartsandcurves。ThelongerthegameprogressedandthewearierHarrisgrew，thehardertheMadden’sHillboysbattedtheballandthecrazieritbouncedatBoandhissickplayers。Finally，TayTayMohlerhitateasinggrounderdowntoBo。
Thenitwasasiftheball，realizingaclimax，madereadyforafinalspurt。WhenBoreachedfortheballitwassomewhereelse。Dundoncouldnotlocateit。AndKelly，rushingdowntothechase，fellalloverhimselfandhisteammatestryingtograsptheillusiveball，andallthetimeTayTaywasrunning。Heneverstopped。Butashewasheavyandfathedidnotmakefasttimeonthebases。Franticallytheoutfieldersranintoheadoffthebouncingball，andwhentheyhadsucceededTayTayhadperformedtheremarkablefeatofmakingahomerunonaballbattedintotheinfield。
ThatbrokeNatchez’sspirit。Theyquit。Theyhurriedfortheirbats。OnlyBoremainedbehindamomenttotrytogethisyarnball。ButSamhadpounceduponitandgivenitsafelytoDaddy。
Bomadeonesullendemandforit。
``Funnyaboutthemfastfinishesofyours！’’saidDaddyscornfully。``Say！theball’sour’n。Thewinnin’teamgitstheball。Gohomean’lookuptherulesofthegame！’’
Boslouchedoffthefieldtoashrillhootingandtincanning。
``Fellers，whatwasthescore？’’askedDaddy。
NobodyknewtheexactnumberofrunsmadebyMadden’sHill。
``Gimmeaknife，somebody，’’saidthemanager。
WhenithadbeenproducedDaddylaiddowntheyarnballandcutintoit。Thebladeenteredreadilyforainchandthenstopped。Daddycutallaroundtheball，andremovedthecoveroftightlywrappedyarn。InsidewasasolidballofIndiarubber。
``Say！itain’tsofunnynow——howthatballbounced，’’remarkedDaddy。
``Wotyouthinkofthat！’’exclaimedTom，feelingthelumponhishead。
``T—t—t—t—t—t—t—ta—tr————’’beganTayTayMohler。
``Sayit！Sayit！’’interruptedDaddy。
``Ta—ta—ta—tr—trimmedthemwa—wa—wa—wa—withtheirownb—b—b—b—b—ba—ba—ball，’’finishedTay。
OLDWELLWELL
Heboughtaticketatthe25—centwindow，andedginghishugebulkthroughtheturnstile，laboriouslyfollowedthenoisycrowdtowardthebleachers。
Icouldnothavebeenmistaken。HewasOldWell—Well，famousfromBostontoBaltimoreasthegreatestbaseballfanintheEast。Hissingularyellhadpealedintotheearsoffivehundredthousandworshippersofthenationalgameandwouldneverbeforgotten。
AtsightofhimIrecalledafriend’sbaseballtalk。``YourememberOldWell—Well？He’sallin——dying，pooroldfellow！ItseemsyoungBurt，whomthePhilliesaretryingoutthisspring，isOldWell—Well’snephewandprotege。UsedtoplayontheMurrayHillteam;aspeedyyoungster。
WhenthePhiladelphiateamwasherelast，ManagerCrestlineannouncedhisintentiontoplayBurtincenterfield。OldWell—Wellwastooilltoseetheladgethistryout。Hewasheart—brokenandsaid：`IfIcouldonlyseeonemoregame！’’’
TherecollectionofthisrandombaseballgossipandthefactthatPhiladelphiawasscheduledtoplayNewYorkthatveryday，gavemeasuddendesiretoseethegamewithOldWell—Well。Ididnotknowhim，butwhereonearthwereintroductionsassuperfluousasonthebleachers？Itwasaveryeasymattertocatchupwithhim。Hewalkedslowly，leaninghardonacaneandhiswideshoulderssaggedashepuffedalong。Iwasabouttomakesomepleasantremarkconcerningtheprospectsofafinegame，whenthesightofhisfaceshockedmeandIdrewback。IfeverIhadseenshadowofpainandshadeofdeaththeyhovereddarklyaroundOldWell—Well。
Nooneaccompaniedhim;nooneseemedtorecognizehim。Themajorityofthatmerrycrowdofboysandmenwouldhavejumpedupwildwithpleasuretohearhiswell—rememberedyell。Notmuchlongerthanayearbefore，Ihadseententhousandfansriseasonemanandroaragreetingtohimthatshookthestands。SoIwasconfrontedbyasituationstrikinglycalculatedtorousemycuriosityandsympathy。
Hefoundanendseatonarowataboutthemiddleoftheright—fieldbleachersandIchoseoneacrosstheaisleandsomewhatbehindhim。
Noplayerswereyetinsight。Thestandswerefillingupandstreamsofmenwerefilingintotheaislesofthebleachersandpilingoverthebenches。
OldWell—Wellsettledhimselfcomfortablyinhisseatandgazedabouthimwithanimation。Therehadcomeachangetohismassivefeatures。Thehardlineshadsoftened;thepatchesofgraywerenolongervisible;hischeekswereruddy;
somethingakintoasmileshoneonhisfaceashelookedaround，missingnodetailofthefamiliarscene。
DuringthepracticeofthehometeamOldWell—
Wellsatstillwithhisbighandsonhisknees;butwhenthegongrangforthePhillies，hegrewrestless，squirminginhisseatandhalfroseseveraltimes。Idivinedtheimportuningofhisoldhabittogreethisteamwiththeyellthathadmadehimfamous。Iexpectedhimtogetup;Iwaitedforit。Gradually，however，hebecamequietasamangovernedbysevereself—restraintanddirectedhisattentiontothePhiladelphiacenterfielder。
AtaglanceIsawthattheplayerwasnewtomeandansweredthenewspaperdescriptionofyoungBurt。Whatalivelylookingathlete！Hewastall，lithe，yetsturdy。Hedidnotneedtochasemorethantwoflyballstowinme。Hisgraceful，faststyleremindedmeofthegreatCurtWelch。OldWell—Well’sfaceworearaptexpression。IdiscoveredmyselfhopingBurtwouldmakegood;wishinghewouldriptheboardsoffthefence;prayinghewouldbreakupthegame。
ItwasSaturday，andbythetimethegongsoundedforthegametobeginthegrandstandandbleacherswerepacked。Thescenewasglittering，colorful，adelighttotheeye。Aroundthecircleofbrightfacesrippledalow，merrymurmur。Theumpire，grotesquelypaddedinfrontbyhischestprotector，announcedthebatteries，dustedtheplate，andthrowingoutawhiteball，sangtheopensesameofthegame：``Play！’’
ThenOldWell—Wellaroseasifpushedfromhisseatbysomestrongpropellingforce。Ithadbeenhiswontalwayswhenplaywasorderedorinamomentofsilentsuspense，oralullintheapplause，oradramaticpausewhenheartsheathighandlipsweremute，tobawloutoverthelistening，waitingmultitudehisterrificblast：``Well—Well—
Well！’’
Twiceheopenedhismouth，gurgledandchoked，andthenresumedhisseatwithaveryred，agitatedface;somethinghaddeterredhimfromhispurpose，orhehadbeenphysicallyincapableofyelling。
ThegameopenedwithWhite’ssharpboundertotheinfield。Wesleyhadthreestrikescalledonhim，andKellyfouledouttothirdbase。ThePhilliesdidnobetter，beingretiredinone，two，threeorder。Thesecondinningwasshortandnotallieswerechalkedup。Brainhitsafelyinthethirdandwenttosecondonasacrifice。Thebleachersbegantostampandcheer。HereachedthirdonaninfieldhitthatthePhiladelphiashort—
stopknockeddownbutcouldnotcoverintimetocatcheitherrunner。Thecheerinthegrandstandwasdrownedbytheroarinthebleachers。
Brainscoredonafly—balltoleft。Adoublealongtherightfoullinebroughtthesecondrunnerhome。Followingthatthenextbatterwentoutonstrikes。
InthePhiladelphiahalfoftheinningyoungBurtwasthefirstmanup。Hestoodleft—handedattheplateandlookedformidable。Duveen，thewaryoldpitcherforNewYork，towhomthisnewplayerwasanunknownquantity，eyedhiseasypositionasifreckoningonapossibleweakness。
Thenhetookhisswingandthrewtheball。Burtnevermovedamuscleandtheumpirecalledstrike。
Thenextwasaball，thenextastrike;stillBurthadnotmoved。
``Somebodywakehimup！’’yelledawaginthebleachers。``He’sfromSlumbertown，allright，allright！’’shoutedanother。
Duveensentupanotherball，highandswift。
Burthitstraightoverthefirstbaseman，alinedrivethatstruckthefrontoftheright—fieldbleachers。
``Peacherino！’’howledafan。
HerethepromiseofBurt’sspeedwasfulfilled。
Run！Hewasfleetasadeer。Hecutthroughfirstlikethewind，settledtoadrivingstridesroundedsecond，andbyagood，longslidebeatthethrowintothird。Thecrowd，whowenttogamestoseelonghitsanddaringruns，gavehimageneroushand—clapping。
OldWell—Wellappearedonthevergeofapoplexy。
Hisruddyfaceturnedpurple，thenblack;
heroseinhisseat;hegaveventtosmotheredgasps;thenhestraightenedupandclutchedhishandsintohisknees。
Burtscoredhisrunonahittodeepshort，aninfielder’schoice，withthechancesagainstretiringarunnerattheplate。Philadelphiacouldnottallyagainthatinning。NewYorkblankedinthefirstofthenext。Fortheiropponents，anerror，aclosedecisionatsecondfavoringtherunner，andasingletorighttiedthescore。BellofNewYorkgotacleanhitintheopeningofthefifth。
Withnooneoutandchancesforarun，theimpatientfansletloose。Foursubwaytrainsincollisionwouldnothaveequalledtheyellandstampinthebleachers。Maloneywasnexttobatandheessayedabunt。Thisthefansderidedwithhootsandhisses。Noteamwork，noinsideballforthem。
``Hititout！’’yelledahundredinunison。
``Homerun！’’screamedaworshipperoflonghits。
AsifactuatedbythesentimentsofhisadmirersMaloneylinedtheballovershort。Itlookedgoodforadouble;itcertainlywouldadvanceBelltothird;maybehome。ButnoonecalculatedonBurt。Hisfleetnessenabledhimtoheadtheboundingball。Hepickeditupcleanly，andcheckinghisheadlongrun，threwtowardthirdbase。
Bellwashalfwaythere。Theballshotstraightandlowwithterrificforceandbeattherunnertothebag。
``Whatagreatarm！’’Iexclaimed，deepinmythroat。``It’sthelad’sday！Hecan’tbestopped。’’
Thekeennewsboysittingbelowusbroketheamazedsilenceinthebleachers。
``Wotd’yetinko’that？’’
OldWell—Wellwrithedinhisseat。Tohimifwasaone—mangame，asithadcometobeforme。
Ithrilledwithhim;Igloriedinthemakinggoodofhisprotege;itgottobeaneffortonmyparttolookattheoldman，sokeenlydidhisemotioncommunicateitselftome。
Thegamewenton，aclose，exciting，brilliantlyfoughtbattle。Bothpitcherswereattheirbest。
Thebattersbattedoutlongflies，lowliners，andsharpgrounders;thefieldersfieldedthesedifficultchanceswithoutmisplay。Opportunitiescameforruns，butnorunswerescoredforseveralinnings。Hopeswereraisedtothehighestpitchonlytobedashedastonishinglyaway。Thecrowdinthegrandstandswayedtoeverypitchedball;
thebleacherstossedlikesurfinastorm。
Tostarttheeighth，StranathanofNewYorktripledalongtheleftfoulline。Thunderburstfromthefansandrolledswellinglyaroundthefield。Beforethehoarseyelling，theshrillhooting，thehollowstampinghadceasedStranathanmadehomeonaninfieldhit。Thenbedlambrokeloose。Itcalmeddownquickly，forthefanssensedtroublebetweenBinghamton，whohadbeenthrownoutintheplay，andtheumpirewhowaswavinghimbacktothebench。
``Youdizzy—eyedoldwoman，youcan’tseestraight！’’calledBinghamton。
Theumpire’sreplywaslost，butitwasevidentthattheoffendingplayerhadbeenorderedoutofthegrounds。
Binghamtonswaggeredalongthebleacherswhiletheumpireslowlyreturnedtohispost。Thefanstookexceptiontotheplayer’sobjectionandwerenotslowinexpressingit。Variouswittyenconiums，nottobemisunderstood，attestedtothebleachers’loveoffairplayandtheirdisgustataplayer’sgettinghimselfputoutofthegameatacriticalstage。
Thegameproceeded。Asecondbatterhadbeenthrownout。Thentwohitsinsuccessionlookedgoodforanotherrun。White，thenextbatter，sentasingleoversecondbase。Burtscoopedtheballonthefirstbounceandletdrivefortheplate。
Itwasanotherextraordinarythrow。Whetherballorrunnerreachedhomebasefirstwasmostdifficulttodecide。Theumpiremadehissweepingwaveofhandandthebreathlesscrowdcaughthisdecision。
``Out！’’
Inactionandsoundthecircleofbleachersresembledalongcurvedbeachwithamountingbreakerthunderingturbulentlyhigh。
``Rob——b——ber——r！’’bawledtheoutragedfans，betrayingtheirmarvelousinconsistency。
OldWell—Wellbreathedhard。Againthewrestlingofhisbodysignifiedaninwardstrife。I
begantofeelsurethatthemanwasinamingledtormentofjoyandpain，thathefoughtthemaddeningdesiretoyellbecauseheknewhehadnotthestrengthtostandit。Surely，inalltheyearsofhislongfollowingofbaseballhehadneverhadtheincentivetoexpresshimselfinhispeculiarwaythatriotedhimnow。Surely，beforethegameendedhewouldsplitthewindswithhiswonderfulyell。
Duveen’sonlybaseonballs，withthehelpofabunt，asteal，andascratchhit，resultedinarunforPhiladelphia，againtyingthescore。HowthefansragedatFullerforfailingtofieldtheluckyscratch。
``Wehadthegameonice！’’onecried。
``Gethimabasket！’’
NewYorkmengotonbasesintheninthandmadestrenuouseffortstocrosstheplate，butitwasnottobe。Philadelphiaopenedupwithtwoscorchinghitsandthenadoublesteal。Burtcameupwithrunnersonsecondandthird。Halfthecrowdcheeredinfairappreciationofthewayfatewasstarringtheambitiousyoungoutfielder;theotherhalf，dyed—in—the—woolhome—teamfans，bentforwardinawaitingsilentgloomoffear。BurtknockedthedirtoutofhisspikesandfacedDuveen。Thesecondballpitchedhemetfairlyanditranglikeabell。
Nooneinthestandssawwhereitwent。Buttheyheardthecrack，sawtheNewYorkshortstopstaggerandthenpounceforwardtopickuptheballandspeedittowardtheplate。Thecatcherwasquicktotagtheincomingrunner，andthensnaptheballtofirstbase，completingadoubleplay。
Whenthecrowdfullygraspedthis，whichwasafteraninstantofbewilderment，ahoarsecrashingroarrolledoutacrossthefieldtobellowbackinloudechofromCoogan’sBluff。Thegrandstandresembledacoloredcornfieldwavinginaviolentwind;thebleacherslostallsemblanceofanything。Frenzied，flingingaction——wildchaos——shriekingcries——manifestedsheerinsanityofjoy。
Whenthenoisesubsided，onefan，evidentlyalittlelonger—windedthanhiscomrades，criedouthysterically：
``O—h！Idon’tcarewhatbecomesofme——
now—w！’’
Scoretied，threetothree，gamemustgoteninnings——thatwastheshibboleth;thatwastheovermasteringtruth。Thegamedidgoteninnings——
eleven——twelve，everyonemarkedbymasterlypitching，fullofmagnificentcatches，stopsandthrows，repletewithrecklessbase—runningandslideslikeflashesinthedust。Buttheywereunproductiveofruns。Threetothree！Thirteeninnings！
``Unluckythirteenth，’’wailedasuperstitiousfan。
Ihadgotdowntoplugging，andforthefirsttime，notformyhometeam。IwantedPhiladelphiatowin，becauseBurtwasontheteam。WithOldWell—Wellsittingtheresorigidinhisseat，soobsessedbytheplayingofthelad，IturnedtraitortoNewYork。
Whitecutahightwistingbounderinsidethethirdbase，andbeforetheballcouldbereturnedhestoodsafelyonsecond。Thefanshowledwithwhathuskyvoicetheyhadleft。Thesecondhitterbattedatremendouslyhighflytowardcenterfield。
Burtwheeledwiththecrackoftheballandracedfortheropes。Onwardtheballsoaredlikeasailingswallow;thefleetfielderranwithhisbacktothestands。Whatanagethatballstayedintheair！Thenitlostitsspeed，gracefullycurvedandbegantofall。Burtlungedforwardandupwards;
theballlitinhishandsandstuckthereasheplungedovertheropesintothecrowd。Whitehadleisurelytrottedhalfwaytothird;hesawthecatch，ranbacktotouchsecondandtheneasilymadethirdonthethrow—in。TheapplausethatgreetedBurtprovedthesplendidspiritofthegame。Bellplacedasafelittlehitovershort，scoringWhite。Heaving，bobbingbleachers——
wild，broken，roaronroar！
Scorefourtothree——onlyonehalfinningleftforPhiladelphiatoplay——howthefansrootedforanotherrun！Aswiftdouble—play，however，endedtheinning。
Philadelphia’sfirsthitterhadthreestrikescalledonhim。
``Asleepattheswitch！’’yelledadelightedfan。
Thenextbatterwentoutonaweakpop—upflytosecond。
``Nothin’toit！’’
``Oh，Ihatetotakethismoney！’’
``All—lo—over！’’
TwomenatleastofallthatvastassemblagehadnotgivenupvictoryforPhiladelphia。IhadnotdaredtolookatOldWell—Wellforalong，while。Idreadedthenestportentiousmoment。
Ifeltdeepwithinmesomethinglikeclairvoyantforce，anintangiblebelieffosteredbyhope。
Magoon，thesluggerofthePhillies，sluggedoneagainsttheleftfieldbleachers，but，beingheavyandslow，hecouldnotgetbeyondsecondbase。Clessswungwithallhismightatthefirstpitchedball，andinsteadofhittingitamileashehadtried，hescratchedamean，slow，teasinggrounderdownthethirdbaseline。Itwasassafeasifithadbeenshotoutofacannon。Magoonwenttothird。
Thecrowdsuddenlyawoketoominouspossibilities;
sharpcommandscamefromtheplayers’
bench。ThePhiladelphiateamwerebowlingandhoppingonthesidelines，andhadtobeputdownbytheumpire。
Aninbreathingsilencefelluponstandsandfield，quiet，likealullbeforeastorm。
WhenIsawyoungBurtstartfortheplateandrealizeditwashisturnatbat，IjumpedasifI
hadbeenshot。PuttingmyhandonOldWell—
Well’sshoulderIwhispered：``Burt’satbat：
He’llbreakupthisgame！Iknowhe’sgoingtoloseone！’’
Theoldfellowdidnotfeelmytouch;hedidnothearmyvoice;hewasgazingtowardthefieldwithanexpressiononhisfacetowhichnohumanspeechcouldrenderjustice。Heknewwhatwascoming。Itcouldnotbedeniedhiminthatmoment。
HowconfidentlyyoungBurtstooduptotheplate！Noneexceptanaturalhittercouldhavehadhisposition。HemighthavebeenWagnerforallheshowedofthetightsuspenseofthatcrisis。Yettherewasatensealertpoisetohisheadandshoulderswhichprovedhewasalivetohisopportunity。
Duveenplainlyshowedhewastired。Twiceheshookhisheadtohiscatcher，asifhedidnotwanttopitchacertainkindofball。Hehadtouseextramotiontogethisoldspeed，andhedeliveredahighstraightballthatBurtfouledoverthegrandstand。Thesecondballmetasimilarfate。Allthetimethecrowdmaintainedthatstrangewaitingsilence。Theumpirethrewoutaglisteningwhiteball，whichDuveenrubbedinthedustandspatupon。Thenhewoundhimselfupintoaknot，slowlyunwound，andswingingwitheffort，threwfortheplate。
Burt’slitheshouldersswungpowerfully。Themeetingofballandbatfairlycracked。Thelowdrivinghitlinedoversecondarisingglitteringstreak，andwentfarbeyondthecenterfielder。
Bleachersandstandsutteredoneshortcry，almostagroan，andthenstaredatthespeedingrunners。Foraninstant，approachingdoomcouldnothavebeenmoredreaded。Magoonscored。
Clesswasroundingsecondwhentheballlit。IfBurtwasrunningswiftlywhenheturnedfirsthehadonlygotstarted，forthenhislongsprinter’sstridelengthenedandquickened。Atsecondhewasflying;beyondsecondheseemedtomergeintoagrayflittingshadow。
Igrippedmyseatstranglingtheuproarwithinme。Wherewastheapplause？Thefansweresilent，chokedasIwas，butfromadifferentcause。
ClesscrossedtheplatewiththescorethatdefeatedNewYork;stillthetensionneverlaxeduntilBurtbeattheballhomeinasbeautifularunaseverthrilledanaudience。
InthebleakdeadpauseofamazeddisappointmentOldWell—Wellliftedhishulkingfigureandloomed，toweredoverthebleachers。Hiswideshouldersspread，hisbroadchestexpanded，hisbreathwhistledashedrewitin。Onefleetinginstanthistransfiguredfaceshonewithagloriouslight。Then，ashethrewbackhisheadandopenedhislips，hisfaceturnedpurple，themusclesofhischeeksandjawrippledandstrung，theveinsonhisforeheadswelledintobulgingridges。Eventhebackofhisneckgrewred。
``Well！——Well！——Well！！！’’
Ear—splittingstentorianblast！ForamomentIwasdeafened。ButIheardtheechoringingfromthecliff，apealingclarioncall，beautifulandwonderful，windingawayinhollowreverberation，thenbreakingoutanewfrombuildingtobuildinginclearconcatenation。
Aseaoffaceswhirledinthedirectionofthatlongunheardyell。Burthadstoppedstatue—likeasifstrickeninhistracks;thenhecamerunning，dartingamongthespectatorswhohadleapedthefence。
OldWell—Wellstoodamomentwithslowglancelingeringonthetumultofemptyingbleachers，onthemovingminglingcolorsinthegrandstand，acrossthegreenfieldtothegray—cladplayers。
Hestaggeredforwardandfell。
BeforeIcouldmove，anoisycrowdswarmedabouthim，somesolicitous，manyfacetious。
YoungBurtleapedthefenceandforcedhiswayintothecircle。Thentheywerecarryingtheoldmandowntothefieldandtowardtheclubhouse。
Iwaiteduntilthebleachersandfieldwereempty。WhenIfinallywentouttherewasacrowdatthegatesurroundinganambulance。IcaughtaglimpseofOldWell—Well。Helaywhiteandstill，buthiseyeswereopen，smilingintently。
YoungBurthungoverhimwithapaleandagitatedface。Thenabellclangedandtheambulanceclatteredaway。
