Wickasaw’s center-fielder went to bat, waited for a pass to first and got it. Bob called out for the infielders to play for second. As expected, the next man attempted a sacrifice. Had Carter not muffed a good throw from Van Roden all might have been well, but as it was there was a man on second and one on first with none out. Wells looked worried and the coaching across the field added to his discomfiture. The immediate result was that the Wickasaw third-baseman received the ball on his elbow and trotted to first base. Bob informed the umpire persuasively that the batsman had not tried to avoid being struck, but the umpire couldn’t see it that way. Things looked bad for Chicora; the bases were full and not one of the opponents was out. The next man was Bremer, a councilor, and he should have been an easy victim. But Wells seemed unable to pitch a decent ball, and after four efforts Bremer went down the line and the man on third trotted home amid the wild applause of Wickasaw. Bob walked down to Wells, keeping a close watch on the bases, and strove to put confidence into him. “Take your time, Wells,” he whispered. “There’s no hurry.” But Wells had become sullen and stubborn. “I can’t help it,” he muttered. “I told you I didn’t want to pitch to-day, that I couldn’t do anything. The heat----” “Oh, never mind the heat,” answered Bob soothingly. “Just put the balls over; let them hit; we’ll attend to them all right.” “That’s easy enough to say, but I’m not feeling well,” grumbled Wells. “My arm’s tired, and it’s so hot----” “Well, try your best, that’s a good chap. Get them over the plate; never mind if they hit them.” “All right,” answered the pitcher despondently. The Wickasaw captain found the first ball, but it went up in an infield fly. The next man, too, went out; Loom pulled down his liner head-high and the man on third scurried back to his base. Then came the Wickasaw catcher--and Wells kindly presented him with his base, and again the “Babe” was forced to score a tally for the enemy. The honors were even now, but the inning was not yet at an end. Wells went thoroughly to pieces. A two-base hit by one of the rival nine’s councilors brought in two men and still left second and third bases occupied. Wickasaw’s supporters kept up a continuous shouting, hoping doubtless to add to the discomfiture of the Chicora pitcher, while back of first and third bases the Wickasaw coachers screamed and yelled with the same end in view. Naturally enough, Wells’s wildness eventually proved contagious, and it was Bob himself who let in the next run, missing a throw to the plate after a hit. But if he was accountable for that tally he was also accountable for the termination of the inning. For he managed to toss the ball, while lying flat on his back, to the plate in time to put out the next ambitious Wickasaw runner. And so the rout finally came to an end with the score 6 to 3 in Wickasaw’s favor.