Simpson had his instructions to bunt, if he could, along the first-base line. Mr. Williams again signalled the infield to close in toward the plate, for they must play for the man on third no matter what became of the batter. Simpson tried hard to carry out instructions, missed one strike, fouled off a second and, finally, with two strikes and two balls on him, actually bumped the sphere across the diamond in a very good imitation of a hit. But it was an imitation only and he would have been an easy out had not Benson, the opposing shortstop, delayed too long to throw to first. Benson was so sure that the runner on third was putting out for home that it took him several valuable moments to convince himself that that player was actually only ten feet from base. By that time Simpson, who could run if he couldn’t bat much, was almost at the bag, and Benson’s desperate peg failed to get him. Mount Placid showed signs of nervousness now. Mr. Gifford went to bat. On the first pitch Simpson scuttled to second. Hanford threw quickly to the box, but Steve was not to be fooled by so ancient a trick and trotted back to third. There was no necessity for taking risks, anyway, for there was but one down and any sort of a hit or a long sacrifice fly would score him. But five minutes later the outlook was darker, for Mr. Gifford, in spite of all his efforts, only managed at last to hit straight at the box. Mr. Williams knocked the ball down, held Steve at third, and tossed out the runner. The Wigwam, almost pale with excitement, groaned and cheered together. The rivals across the diamond found cause for rejoicing and shouted encouragingly. Joe Groom picked out a bat and faced the pitcher, scowling intently. At second Simpson took a long lead, but watched the ball closely. On third Steve had grown suddenly shy and hugged the bag until the ball was in the air. But the coachers kept up their din and the infield still played short-field and Mr. Williams looked a little bit anxious. The first offer was a straight ball right across the plate and Joe Groom frowned. The next was wide and evened the score. Then a curve fooled Joe completely and his vicious swing at it passed harmlessly by. “Two-and-one!” called Hanford hoarsely. “Let’s have him now!” Mr. Williams smiled grimly, began his wind-up and--faltered! For there, running like a grey-legged rabbit along the path, sped Steve! Mr. Williams recovered quickly, stepped forward and shot the ball to Hanford. Some two hundred voices shrieked together. Joe Groom held his place grimly, his eyes fixed on the ball, his bat poised. But there was no need of offering, for that one instant of hesitation had done the business. The ball, sent away as an out-curve, broke wildly, and although Hanford, dropping to his knees, threw himself in the way of it, it trickled past, and Steve, sliding to the plate in a maelstrom of dust, had scored!