It looked very much like a tie game when Peddie had gone out, shortstop to first baseman, and Sam Craig had fanned in the first of the twelfth inning, for the visiting team would have to get the five-twelve train back to Amesville, and it was then well after four o’clock. But many a game has been pulled out of the fire with two men down, and this was to prove one of them. Joe went to bat with his mind made up to hit somehow, somewhere. This would, he was sure, be his last chance to do anything worth while against the crafty Mr. Corrigan, and he did want to have something more to show than two weak sacrifices. He had profited by experience and close study of Corrigan’s methods and was heartened by assurance when he gripped his bat and faced the shock-headed twirler. Corrigan seldom pitched the first ball over, and Joe knew it, and so, although he made a fine show of being anxious to swing at it, he let it go by and had his judgment sustained by the umpire’s decision. The next one was a fast ball that looked good until it broke in front of the plate and just escaped a corner. With two balls and no strikes, Corrigan became careful. Joe swung at the third offering and missed it. Corrigan smiled at him, and the catcher, who usually kept up a running fire of comment, told Joe that he was a fine, free swinger, “just like a gate, old man, just like a gate!” Corrigan concluded that the batter was ready to take a chance now and so he uncorked a fast and high one that had Joe feeling anxious until the umpire decided that it was a ball. After that, Corrigan had to make them good, but, with two down, he wasn’t troubled much. His next offering was one of his famous slow balls, and Joe, having one to spare, let it severely alone. It proved a strike. “One more, now, just like the last!” called the catcher. “Let’s have it, Jimmy!”