The fifth began with the score still one to nothing, and Steve Brown tried desperately to get a start. But the rival pitcher’s skill was too much for Steve, and when, as a last resort, the latter got in the way of the ball the thing was so palpable that Mr. York laughingly shook his head and Mount Placid jeered good-naturedly. Thursby laid down a bunt in front of the plate, but he couldn’t beat the throw to first. Meldrum made the third out, short to first. The Mount Placid shortstop, Benson, opened the inning for the home team with a slow bunt down third-base line that neither Crossbush nor Porter could field, and an instant later he stole second, being aided by a poor pitch of Porter’s that Sam couldn’t pick from between his feet in time to throw. Mount Placid, and Greenwood too, was cheering lustily now, and the coachers were adding their turmoil to the total of sound. With two strikes and one ball on Smith, Porter let down and handed out a base. With a man on first and second, Walters flied out to Mr. Gifford, who held the runners. Then Mr. Connell, one of the councillors, and third baseman, found Porter for a long fly into right, which George Meldrum badly misjudged, and two runs trickled across. Mr. Connell took third on the throw-in. Mr. Phillips scored him a minute later when he landed a Texas Leaguer behind first base. There was still but one out. Sam walked down and whispered to Porter. He had nothing to say to the pitcher, for George was pitching coolly and well, but he seemed to be planning all sorts of strategies, and The Wigwam cheered and the rivals indulged in the usual humourous remarks held sacred to such occasions: “That’s right, talk it over!” “Let’s all hear it!” “I’ll bet it’s a good story!” “They’re changing the signals. It’s all up now!” “Play ball, Wigwam! Tell him about it afterwards!”