“That’s right,” nodded the Maplewood manager grimly. “Our boys can’t seem to hit Merriwell at all. He’s pitching in amazing form. The presence of his brother seems to inspire him. It’s true they haven’t been able to score on Slocum thus far; but twice we have prevented it by good luck rather than good playing. They have a runner on third now and only one out. I am afraid they are going to get a start right here.” “If you lose this game do you know what the result will be?” asked Fernald. “Do you know where it will land Fairhaven?” “Why, I am not sure——” “But I am sure. I have just heard from Rockford. Seaslope won the game to-day. Unless you take this game from Fairhaven, the team here wins the pennant and you land at the bottom. A little while ago you were confident of winning all your bets. It begins to look now as if you might lose them all.” Slowly Hammerswell removed the half-smoked cigar from his lips. It quivered a little in his fingers. Fernald saw this, and knew how the strain was telling on the Maplewood man. “Win or lose,” muttered the schemer, “I have done everything in my power to come out ahead. It’s impossible to play anything underhand here to-day. This crowd wouldn’t stand for it. Those stonecutters would lynch a crooked umpire, and they’d mob a player who did any dirty work on the field. I hope to win this game on its merits, but there’s no telling what may happen.” “I know what will happen if you lose,” said Fernald bitterly. “I will get it in the neck. I will be down to hard pan. It will be a case of hustle for me in the future. Hang it all! Hammerswell, I had a comfortable little roll when the baseball season opened this year, but it will be wiped out if you don’t carry off this game.” Hammerswell laughed harshly and bitterly. “You’ll be no worse off than I will,” he muttered. “We’ll both be in the same boat. Ha, look at that! By George! it’s good for a run. Too bad! They’re going to score!” The batter had driven a liner toward left field, and the runner on third unhesitatingly started toward the plate. “Watch! watch!” exclaimed Fernald. “Halligan is after it.” “He can’t get it,” said Hammerswell. But the next moment he sprang up with a cry of satisfaction and relief, for Halligan had leaped into the air and captured the ball with one hand. Immediately the Maplewood left fielder threw to Lumley at third, making a double play, as the base runner was unable to get back to the bag in time. “Great stuff!” breathed Tom Fernald, in untold relief. “That kept them from scoring.” “It did,” nodded Hammerswell, sitting down again; “but once more it was a piece of luck for us. We can’t depend wholly on luck.” “Push your team now,” urged Fernald. “Make them get into this thing and win.” Once more Dick Merriwell walked into the box, his eye clear, his determination firm and unshaken. Connor was the first man to face him.