But Lem needed not the hoarse cries to urge him on. He needed not the frantic cheers of his comrades in arms nor those who sat in the grandstands. No sooner had he felt the magic of that meeting between his bat and the ball, than he sprang forward like some stone from an ancient catapult, tossing the stick to one side. And how he did run! The second baseman stood ready to relay the ball home, as soon as the frantic rightfielder should get it. But the horsehide had rolled into the deep grass. There was some delay in finding it, and by that time Lem was at second. As he rounded that the centrefielder got his fingers on the ball. Like a flash he threw. "Come on! Come on!" screamed the Blue Hill captain, and Lem came. He beat the ball to third base, and kept on. He heard the thud of the horsehide striking the mit of the third baseman, and thought all was lost, but he dared not turn to see. Then a groan--a groan of despair from the Kentfield stand--told him what had happened. The third baseman had muffed it. There was still a chance for the runner. Lem's feet and legs scarce could carry him onward, but he forced them to. The shortstop was racing madly for the ball. He and Dick collided, and when the ball was finally recovered by the chagrined third baseman himself, Lem was so near home that it was a foregone conclusion that he would tally the tieing run. And he did. The ball came with a "plunk" into the catcher's big mit, and then the umpire called out: "Safe!" Joyful pandemonium broke loose in the Blue Hill ranks. "We've got a chance to beat 'em!" they yelled. And truly this was so, but it was a very slim chance. "Never mind, Dick," consoled Beeby. "You can strike out Ed Mayfield." "Don't let him get a look in, and we can easily pull one run out when we get to the bat," urged Paul Drew. "All right," answered Dick, shortly. He had taken a chance on Lem not hitting that ball, but the unexpected had happened. Dick pulled himself together, and faced Ed Mayfield, the next batter up, who was nervously dancing about the plate, trying by means of grins and gibes to disconcert the pitcher. But Dick was not built that way. Calmly he sized up his opponent and sent in a ball that fooled him. Then came something in the nature of a fizzle, when the umpire called a ball. It began to look a bit dubious when the next was a ball also. "Careful, Dick," warned the captain. "We can't afford to go to pieces now." Dick did not answer, but there was a grim tightening of his lips. Then he sent in a viciously swift ball. "Strike two!" called the umpire, sharply. "Ah!" came as a sort of chorus from the big crowd. "Dick's all right now," declared Paul Drew, in a low voice. And so it proved. Without giving another ball, Dick put over another delivery, which resulted in a strike, and to it the umpire added: "Strike three--batter's out!" The score was a tie. "Now, Kentfield!" came the excited cry. "Show 'em how to win this game! One run will do it!"