Confidently the last Harvard batter faced him, swinging his bat. Frank tried a curve which went outside the plate. A foul followed, and then a strike. Twice he threw high to tease the batter, and then with all the vigor he had left, he snapped over a straight ball, close to the knees. The batter swiped desperately at it. "You're out," came the sharp tones of the umpire; and as the batter threw his bat wickedly towards the bench, the Yale stands rose _en masse_ and yelled their approval. "We've got to win it now," commanded Captain Armstrong at the bench. "It's our last chance. I can't pitch another ball." At that command the team galvanized into action. The first man up bunted the ball of the hitherto invincible pitcher down the first base line, and was safe. Then came the reliable Turner, gritting his teeth and pawing the ground at the plate. Twice he let the ball pass on strikes, and then the Harvard man pitched one to his liking--a swift, straight ball at about the shoulder. Turner met it with all the force of his vigorous young body, well towards the end of the bat, full and square. The ball started low, like a well-hit golf ball from the tee, rising as it traveled. Out and up it went, while the runner on first, after one look, scudded for home. Just what became of that ball, no one ever knew. It was never found. Some say it struck an automobile on the far side of the outfield fence, and some even say it continued its flight on down to the river. But it did not matter. It was a clean home-run, Turner following his galloping teammate more leisurely, trotting across the plate with the winning run. Down from the stands poured the thousands. They dashed on the field and swept up Captain Armstrong and his gallant warriors. Then when the first transports of joy were over, the classes broke into the zigzag step, arms on shoulders, to the crash of a score of bands. And no one thought the outburst extravagant, for Yale had won. Four days later, after almost superhuman efforts to improve Captain Armstrong's arm, Yale again met Harvard on neutral grounds and again won, thus clinching the championship. Thus was Frank Armstrong's hope of a double championship realized. His name is still pointed to by admiring aspirants for pitching honors in the old college, and his skill and pluck are part of the traditions of baseball. There is little left to tell of our story. The day after Captain Armstrong's great baseball victory at New Haven he joined in the imposing exercises of Commencement day. With others of the Senior class, he marched in solemn academic procession through the historic Campus and city common, and later took his degree from the hands of the President of the college on the broad platform of Woolsey Hall, crowded with black-robed dignitaries.