“There, there!” she palpitated. “What do you think about it now?” Bessie could not conceal her surprise and dismay. “Why, I don’t see how it happened!” she said. “You will see lots more things just like that happen to-day,” asserted Zona, whose courage had now risen to the highest point. “Oh, the game is young yet! Here comes Captain Roberts.” “And Captain Roberts is third on the list,” asserted the exuberant Fardale girl. “They retire in order this inning.” Roberts was a first-class hitter, and he connected with the first ball pitched, driving it swiftly along the ground. Darrell got in front of the ball, but, somehow, he let it go through his hands, and it sped on over the short grass outside the diamond. A groan came from the little bunch of Fardale boys on the bleachers. “Wasn’t that a shame!” exclaimed Zona Desmond. “Why didn’t he stop that ball, Doris?” Doris shook her head. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “You know such things will happen.” But in her heart the feeling of doubt and anxiety was rapidly increasing. Roberts, by swift running, reached second, as Darrell had not been backed up by a fielder, and there was some delay in returning the ball to the diamond. Pausing on second, the captain of the home team shouted with laughter. “Why didn’t you strike me out?” he derisively inquired. “Dern your picter!” said Tubbs. “You ought to be out! You didn’t get a hit! You made them two bases on an error!” “But your shortstop never touched the ball.” “If he didn’t,” said Tubbs, “he ought ter have touched it. There wasn’t anything to prevent.” Dick caught the fat boy’s eye and shook his head warningly. To Darrell he made no complaint. Hal was a trifle pale, and he had turned toward Dick as if expecting a reprimand, holding himself ready to retort. “Right after him, Conway!” cried Roberts, dancing about close to second base. “A clean hit ties the score.” For the first time, after throwing two called balls to the next batter, Dick tried the jump ball. Of course, he was not aware that the Fairport batters had been putting in special practice at hitting a sharp rise. This was exactly what Conway had been wishing for, and he hit the ball hard and fair. Out over the infield on a line it sped, somewhat to the right of centre field. Had it been a high fly Jolliby might have secured it. Being a liner, Chip could not get to it, and it went bounding past him. He raced after it, while Roberts came home and Conway went to second. Conway, like Darrell, fancied he saw an opportunity to stretch the hit into a three-bagger. In fact, he fancied there was a bare possibility he might reach home on it. With this thought in his mind, he passed over second and kept on toward third. Jolliby caught up the ball and whirled swiftly toward the diamond. He saw that the runner was making for third. To the spectators it did not seem that Conway could be prevented from reaching that bag.