Crack!--and away flew the ball toward right field, while the Princeton lads opened up at the crack of the bat. “Hurrah! hurrah! Tiger--sis-s-s! boom! ah!” It was a hit. Everybody saw that in a moment, for Hal Faunce could not gather it in, although he sprinted for it. Down to first raced Varney. He was an exuberant fellow, and he flapped his long arms, like the wings of a rooster, and crowed hoarsely as he stood on the bag. That caused another roar to go up. Coachers were on hand, and they began rattling off their talk as soon as the ball was returned to the pitcher. Walbert tried to grin derisively, but there was a sick expression on his face. Bruce Browning grunted. “Another one like that will break his heart, Merriwell,” he said. “He may be a good man when things are going his way, but he can’t stand grief.” Frank said nothing. He sat there as if taking very little interest in the game, but he was watching Walbert closely. Beverage, Princeton’s short, was the second batter. He laughed as he came to the plate; he laughed in Walbert’s face. The Tigers were full of confidence. They had heard all about Yale’s weak points, and they were looking for a snap. Walbert resolved that Beverage should not get a hit off the first ball pitched to him, so he sent him an outcurve that a four-foot bat could not have reached. The ball was so wide that Hodge had to fling himself after it, and he lost his footing. A great cry of delight and mingled derision went up. Varney was scudding down to second, and Hodge was on his knees. But Bart had stopped the ball, and now he turned. Without attempting to get upon his feet, he drew back his arm and sent a liner flying toward second base. It was possible that every one but Frank Merriwell was surprised by this attempt of the catcher to throw to second while on his knees. A shout of contempt and merriment went up. That shout turned to one of astonishment, for they saw the ball fly through the air like a bullet, seeming to shoot on a dead line for second. It did not seem that a man could make such a throw while on his knees. It did seem like a miracle. The coachers were so astounded that they forgot to shout for the runner to slide, and Varney, who had seen Bart fall when he went after the ball, believed there was no need of taking a chance of hurting himself by sliding. Wintz, Yale’s second baseman, came running toward the bag to cut Varney off. He acted as if he expected to take a throw, but Varney laughed aloud. “Can’t fool me that way,” he said. “The trick is stale.” But, a moment later he nearly fainted, for something shot before him and struck with a plunk in Wintz’s hands. Then the second baseman touched the runner, while Varney was still four feet from the bag. Varney stopped on second and turned quickly. He was in time to see Wintz snap the ball to Walbert and hear the umpire cry: “Runner is out!” Varney was dazed. “Who threw that ball?” he gasped.