There were two runners on the bases, one having reached first through an error and the other securing a pass to the initial bag on four balls. “It’s all over!” roared Brick McLane as the next batter stepped out. “Fairhaven wins the first game!” Then Bold shot a speedy one, shoulder high, across the inside corner of the plate. The batter stepped back a bit and met the ball fairly. It was a terrific clout. Chip Jolliby went flying over the low rail which served as centre-field fence and splashed into the frog pond in search of the ball. He had seen it strike, and his heart was in his mouth for fear he could not find it amid the tall grass and weeds. However, Chip secured it and turned with it dripping wet, in his hand, seeing the Maplewood player who had hit it already dashing over third base. Standing out there at that great distance, Jolliby made one of the most amazing throws of his whole baseball career. He was ankle deep in the mire, yet he lined the ball straight to the plate, and Buckhart put it onto the man who was endeavoring to slide home. This astounding throw caused the crowd to roar again, although almost every spectator realized what had been accomplished by the hit. The batter had driven in two runs, which placed Maplewood ahead, the score being eight to seven. “We’ve got them now!” muttered Benton Hammerswell, in relief. “Bretton will hold them right where they are. At the very best, they can take but one of these two games, and, therefore, I will win all my bets.” Hammerswell was leaning on a bat as he muttered this. He felt a touch on his arm and turned to see Tom Fernald. “It was a relief to me when that fellow smashed the ball over the fence,” he said. “I’ve been betting even money that Maplewood would carry off one of the games. Some lobsters were foolish enough to bet that Fairhaven would win both.” “Yes, we’ve got this game now,” nodded Hammerswell. “And it’s a good thing for me, too. It puts me on my feet again. I’ve risked all I could rake and scrape on the result of these games. Unless the improbable happens, Fairhaven will not be at the top to-night, nor will Maplewood be at the bottom.” “Have you figured the thing over?” questioned Fernald. “Have you considered all the possibilities? If Seaslope beats Rockford and Fairhaven and Maplewood divide honors here to-day, every team will be tied once more. It will be necessary to play other games in order to settle the matter.” “I know,” nodded Hammerswell, with a grave smile; “but the people who bet their good money with me had not figured out that possibility. Unless Maplewood is at the bottom to-night, I shall win many of my bets. If Fairhaven is not at the top, I shall win the rest of them. In order for Fairhaven to be at the top we must lose both these games and Seaslope must beat Rockford. It’s all right, Fernald; that can’t happen.”