“Dern their picters!” squealed Obediah Tubbs, prancing up and down on the coach line back of first. “We’ve got ’em guessing now! Get a lead, Bradley. Let him throw it over. He can’t catch you in a year.” In order to hold the runner close to first, Ware snapped the ball over to Anson twice before delivering it to the batter. When he did deliver it he tried a drop. Now Flint was a bad man to deceive with a drop. When he got under one and hit it, he always lifted it a wonderfully long distance. Knowing the batter’s ability for heavy hitting, the fielders had fallen back as soon as he came to the plate. Flint smashed the first ball a fearful crack, and away it slid toward the outfield. “A fence ball!” shrieked Tubbs, in delight. “Git up and git, Bradley!” Fearing the ball might be caught, Billy lingered near first; but now he fancied there was no chance that the fielder would capture it, and away he scooted. Running in the same direction as the ball, Conway turned at the critical moment, looked over his shoulder, and saw it coming. He leaped high in the air and caught it. By this time Bradley had crossed second, and he was astonished when he heard Jolliby yelling at him from the coaching line near third. “Gug-gug-gug-go back! Tut-tut-tut-turn round! He’s gug-gug-gug-got it!” Stopping as quickly as possible, Bradley turned and saw Conway preparing to throw the ball into the diamond. Although Billy literally tore up the chalk along the base line in his endeavor to get back to first, he did not succeed, for the ball reached Anson’s hands ahead of him, and three men were out. Neither side had scored in the first inning. The five innings following were quite as exciting, and still neither side was able to get a man around the bases and across the rubber. It was not entirely a pitchers’ battle. At times both teams hit the ball, but the fast playing kept either Fardale or Fairport from scoring a tally. In critical moments Dick rose to the occasion, and his masterly pitching prevented the enemy from obtaining their object. Jack Ware was also doing clever work. The home players came up time after time with determination in their eyes, resolved to bat out a victory. And time after time Ware, by his clever headwork, prevented them from accomplishing their purpose. Hal Darrell had a remarkable number of “chances,” and he accepted them all. Indeed, his playing was one of the features of the game. This remarkable work by Hal disturbed Arlington’s nerves and aroused his resentment. “Well, look at the lobster! I believe he is actually trying to redeem himself for his rotten playing at Fairport.” “He is not only trying,” said Fraser, “but he is doing it. The boys were all against him at the beginning of the game, and now they are all with him.” Doris Templeton’s heart was beating with keenest satisfaction and joy. To her ears the cheers for Darrell were sweetest music. “Just see, Zona!” she finally exclaimed. “Isn’t he doing splendid to-day?”