“Waugh!” exploded the Texan. “What sort of an old baseball game is this yere? Are you chaps playing a kids’ game? Why don’t you play ball?” “That will be all right!” laughed Roberts. “Just you fellows play one more inning. That’s all we want.” Then, as his team took the field, he again urged them to hold Fardale down. Merriwell again led off with a handsome clean drive for one bag. Black strained every nerve to get a hit, but popped up an infield fly, on which Dick stuck to first and Barron was declared out. The raindrops came thicker. There was a flash of lightning, and the thunder rumbled more nearly overhead. Still the spectators lingered, wishing to see that inning through. Bradley finally got a safe hit, and Flint worked Ware for a pass to first, which filled the bases. At this critical point Darrell again came up. A long hit might tie the score. Would Darrell make it? Dick was watching him closely and anxiously. Twice Hal struck, seeming to try hard to hit the ball, but when he swung the third time Dick felt certain he made an effort to miss. He was out. It depended on Jolliby now. Chip was rather pale as he gripped his bat and took his position. The second ball pitched he hit hard and fair. At the same moment there was another flash of lightning, and the thunder followed it quickly. The men on bases ran without stopping to see the result, for with two out there was no reason why they should hesitate. Conway ran hard to get under the ball, and, as it was coming down, leaped high into the air and caught it. A great shout of joy arose from the Fairport crowd, for in Fardale’s half of the fifth inning she had made no scores, and Fairport was three ahead. If the final half could be played out before the rain fell heavily Fairport would win the game. Roberts shouted for his men to hurry in, and Buckhart rushed to Dick, urging him to delay as much as possible. “We’re beaten if you don’t, for she’s going to rain in a minute. Hold her up, if you can.” Then the Texan himself fumbled and fooled with his body protector in adjusting it until Roberts angrily called the umpire’s attention and demanded that Fardale be made to play. “Trot out your batter!” said Dick. “We will play.” “He is waiting,” said Roberts. “Why don’t you go ahead and pitch?” “Yes, go ahead and pitch!” palpitated Buckhart, suddenly getting under the bat, as he saw Conway in position to strike. Conway was not the right hitter. Roberts was the man, and Buckhart knew it. At this point the scorer for the home team discovered the mistake and invited Roberts to hasten into the batters’ box. Even as he did so, the heavens seemed to open and the rain came down in torrents. “Time!” called the umpire, and the players scudded for shelter, while the crowd on the bleachers followed their example. “Now,” said Buckhart, “let her rain thirty minutes! That’s all we ask!”