Upward and outward sped the ball, away, far away over the center fielder's head. He ran back for it, became confused and began wildly searching around in the deep grass of far outfield. "Come on in! Come on in, everybody!" Tom was yelling, and swinging his arms like the sails of an old windmill. Holly raced over home plate, followed by Kindlings. Bricktop was racing in from third, followed by Sid, who had made such a magnificent hit. Bricktop tallied the tying run, and Sid was now running up from third, running as he had never run before, for he felt that it all depended on him now. The fielder had the ball by this time, and had thrown it to the second baseman, who swung about and relayed it home, but it was just a second too late, and Sid crossed the rubber on a grand slide. Four runs in succession! Oh, how the Randallites did yell! How they howled! How they stamped until the grand stands trembled, while as for the members of the team they fairly smothered Sid! But the game was not over yet. Tom Parsons was up next, and, though as nervous as a girl, he managed to make a single off Langridge, much to the latter's disgust, for he was being hooted and howled at almost to the limit. Then Joe Jackson was struck out, and that ended Randall's chances. But the score was 13 to 12 in her favor, and if they could retire Boxer Hall without a run, the championship was theirs. Tom did it. How, is Randall history now, and any "old grad" will gladly relate it to you. How two men were struck out in almost less time than it takes to tell it, and how Tom caught an almost impossible fly by leaping high in the air as it was sailing over his head, and downed his third man. And that was the end. Randall had won the championship. Oh, what a scene there was on the diamond then! Of course, Boxer cheered her rival, and then, hardly waiting for the answering compliment from Tom's men, they filed to their dressing rooms. "Oh, Sid, it was great! Great!" cried Tom, hugging his chum. "Simply great, old man!" "Up with him!" commanded Phil, and Sid was hoisted to the shoulders of his fellows, and carted around, much to his embarrassment. "A bully game! Whoop-de-doodle-de!" cried the man with the pretty daughters. "Oh, papa!" they cried protestingly, blushing at the notice attracted to them. "Let me alone!" he retorted. "Didn't my old college win? Wow! Wow! Wow!" and he began to dance, while his daughters blushed more deeply. But who cared? The diamond was overrun with spectators, anxious to shake hands with the victorious players, especially with Sid, who had batted the way to victory. Three pretty girls made their way through the press. "Are congratulations in order?" asked one. "Of course, Miss Tyler," answered Phil. "Sure," added Tom, clasping the hands Ruth Clinton held out to him. Sid stepped to one side, as Mabel Harrison came up. He was rather pale under his tan.