Zona, Doris, and June were together in the grand stand, and apparently Hal’s play had filled them all with the greatest enthusiasm and admiration. “Wasn’t it splendid!” breathed Doris, her eyes shining. “I didn’t think he could stop it,” confessed Zona. “I don’t see how he did stop it,” asserted June. “I thought it was past him before he flung himself on the ground.” “And then the way he threw it without getting up!” laughed Doris. “Oh, Hal! I am proud of you!” “I wish we had Bessie here,” said Zona. “We’d show her to-day!” Fardale came in to the bench, and Dick walked at Hal’s side. “That was one of the finest stops I ever saw, Darrell,” he said. “Thank you,” answered Hal. “I was afraid I couldn’t get it.” “And I never had an idea you could touch it; but you did, and that double play was a fancy one.” At first Don Roberts had seemed too astounded to say anything; but now, as he took his position on the field, he cried: “That’s all right, fellows! They can’t have that rabbit’s-foot luck all through the game. Just get right after them now!” Jack Ware threw a few swift ones to Anson to limber up his arm. As Black reached the plate and took his position, Ware whirled and delivered the ball. It was a swift, high one, and Barron did his best to meet it, but failed. “One strike!” Behind Ware the visitors chattered away like a flock of magpies. “Keep him fanning, old boy!” “Put ’em right over!” “He can’t touch you!” “He’s fruit! He’s fruit!” “Got your speed to-day, Jack!” “Oh, what fancy work!” Ware worked carefully with Black until three balls and two strikes were called. Suddenly he delivered that big out-rise, and, believing it was a straight ball, Barron made the mistake of swinging for it. “You’re out!” declared the umpire, as the ball plunked into Warren’s mitt. “That’s the first one, Jack!” “Got him easy.” “The others are just as easy!” “Keep ’em going.” “They will never touch you to-day.” “Let’s see ’ow ’e does hit!” muttered Bradley, as he got into position. “Let’s see hif ’e can do the same trick with me!” It began to seem that Ware would repeat the performance with Bradley, for Billy slashed at the first ball and missed it, then let the second one pass, only to hear a strike declared. “Got him in a hole!” shouted Roberts. “Got him foul, Jack, old boy!” As two strikes and no balls were called, the Fairport pitcher immediately began to try to “work” Billy. Bradley was wise, and, although he pretended to be eager to get a hit, he let the bad ones pass. In this manner three balls were called in succession. “Make him put it over this time, Bradley!” cried Dick. Ware faced the alternative of putting the ball over the plate or letting Billy “walk.” Knowing this, he endeavored to get one over; but, as often happens with the best of pitchers, he failed. Bradley declined to swing and was given a “pass.” Flint strode out to the plate.