YARDLEY     BROADWOOD
Durfee, ss.     Cross, 2b.
Colton, p.     Gale, 3b.
Condit, 3b.     Russell, cf.
Lawrence, rf.     Boudinot, rf.
Loring, lf.     Kent, ss.
Richards, c.     Patterson, c.
Millener, 1b.     Bray, 1b.
Vinton, 2b.     Minot, lf.
Smith, cf.     Herring, p.

It was all very well to feel confident of a victory for the Blue when you were back there in Yardley with the Yardley cheers ringing in your ears, but it was rather more difficult now, when almost every person waved a Broadwood flag or wore a knot of green and when one was literally within the enemy’s camp. This was the thought that came to Gerald as he followed his father and Harry while they worked their way through the crowd about the tiny grand-stand and finally[292] found seats on that structure. Accommodations there were at a premium, for the stand afforded the only shade about the diamond and was so small that only Faculty members, parents, friends, and students accompanying them were admitted. The rest of the spectators lined the field behind the ropes stretched along the first and third base lines, or perched themselves upon the roof and in the windows of the laboratory building which stood nearby. Broadwood’s field adjoined the campus, and from the stand one could look down a long slope of meadow and farm land for almost a mile.

Gerald confided his doubts to Harry when they had finally squeezed themselves into their seats high up under the sloping roof, but Harry had of a sudden changed from a pessimist to an optimist regarding Yardley’s chances.

“Don’t you worry,” he replied excitedly. “We’ll trim ’em for fair. Here comes Yardley now!”

The blue-stockinged team, some twenty strong, came trotting down from the gymnasium, pushed through the crowd about the ropes, hurdled over or ducked under them, and went to their bench at the right of the plate. The bench, with its little strip of gay awning above, was in full view of the stand and Gerald and Harry amused themselves[293] with comments on the appearances of the players.

“There’s Millener,” said Harry. “Doesn’t he look great in his uniform?” Gerald admitted that he did, but insisted that Colton looked finer.

“Look at Danforth!” said Gerald a moment later. “He hasn’t got his uniform on! I’ll bet he isn’t going to play!”

“He’s sick, that’s what’s the matter with him,” responded Harry bitterly. “Look at him. He looks like a sheet of paper. Isn’t that the toughest luck you ever saw? Why, he’s one of our best players; we haven’t got anyone else can play second like Danforth!”

“Who’ll they use?” asked Gerald anxiously.

“Tufts, I guess; he’s the regular sub. But he isn’t any good. We’ll find out in a minute, though, for they’re going out to practice.” Gerald turned to acquaint his father with the heart-breaking news, but Mr. Pennimore had discovered an acquaintance in the lady at his other side and was busily engaged in conversation. Then the team trotted out for practice, and Gerald, discovering Dan amongst the players, held his breath until the youth had taken his position at second. Then he turned radiantly to Harry. But Harry had seen for himself, and their exclamations of wonderment and delight exploded together.

[294]

“Dan,” cried Gerald.

“Vinton!” cried Harry.

For the next few minutes they excitedly discussed this new development in all its phases. Mr. Pennimore was informed and expressed the proper degree of pleasure and excitement. But he made a terrible mistake the next moment when he inquired whether anyone had made a run yet. Gerald sat on him properly, informing him that the game hadn’t begun. Then Broadwood came onto the field and the cheers drowned conversation for a full minute. Yardley retired to the bench and Gerald and Harry watched the rival team’s practice with critical eyes. But they were forced to acknowledge that “Broadwood certainly could field,” and that if the Green played that way in the game, Yardley would have hard work winning. At last, at half-past two, the umpire called the captains to him, Millener of Yardley and Gale of Broadwood, and there was a minute’s conference at the plate. Then Gale turned to the bench and raised his hand.

“On the run, fellows!” he called.

Broadwood took the field and Gerald and Harry examined the Blue’s pitcher with interest as he began throwing into the catcher’s mitt to limber up. He was as tall as Colton, but slenderer, had dark hair and a rather surly expression about[295] his mouth except when he smiled. His movements, save when actually pitching, were deliberate to a degree.

“He doesn’t look much,” confided Gerald.

“But you wait and see,” muttered Harry. “He’s all right. Here comes Durfee to bat. I say! They’ve gone and changed the batting order, haven’t they?”

“Probably because Danforth’s out,” suggested Gerald wisely. “Seems to me it’s a good scheme to have Durfee bat first, because if he does get to first he’s pretty sure to steal safely.”

Little Durfee, the Yardley shortstop, spread his legs, gripped his bat and faced the pitcher.

“Play ball!” said the umpire.

And the “Big Game” was on.

A moment later the Yardley partisans were leaping and shouting for joy. Durfee bunted past Herring and the pitcher fielded too late. Durfee was credited with a hit, but with a quicker man in the box he would never have reached first safely. But he was there, very much there, and that was enough for the wavers of the blue flags. Then came Colton, and there were cries of “Home run, Colton! Hit it out!” And in the outfield the players stepped back, for Colton’s reputation was well known. With two balls and one strike on him, Colton raised his bat in front of a waist-high[296] ball and sent it rolling slowly toward third. Third baseman and pitcher both made for it, but it was a clean hit this time and Durfee was safe at second and Colton at first. How Yardley did shriek and yell!

“Well, I guess that’ll do for a starter!” shrieked Smith, coaching back of first. “I guess that’s going some! On your toes, now! Down with his arm!”

Herring, plainly worried, tried to throw Colton out at first, but Smith laughed derisively and Colton climbed to his feet again, dusted the front of his clothes and edged again into a lead. Herring scowled, glanced around at Durfee, who was dancing back and forth at second, and settled down to the next man, Condit. Evidently Condit thought that what had served twice would serve again, or maybe he had his orders from the bench. At all events, he, too, bunted. The ball rolled toward the pitcher’s box as straight as an arrow and Herring scooped it up. But he was rattled, threw hurriedly and the ball instead of reaching first baseman’s hands landed on Condit’s shoulder and glanced away under the rope. Little Durfee raced home, Colton went to third and Condit took second.

The Yardley cheers were deafening. Gerald and Harry pounded each other on the back and[297] shrieked into each other’s ears, and even Mr. Pennimore was excited and kept saying “Good! Good! Good!” over............