Villum did so, then looked at it curiously. His eyes went to Chip’s face, then to the grand stand, and for the first time he seemed to realize that the crowds were yelling at him in frantic madness. He bowed, stumbled, stood on his head, and vanished under the players’ shed. As Clancy walked out, Green seemed to lose his composure for the first time. “Wake up, you boneheads!” he shouted wrathfully at his amazed team, who were still trying to find out what had happened. “They’ve got four runs on us, with only two hits. And Merriwell got them both! Wake up and play the game!” “Here’s where we get another hit, Southpaw Diggs,” said Clancy merrily, as he danced into the box. “Put her over, old sox!” Green obeyed, and the ball had so much speed that Clancy merely leaped backward in actual terror. “Hey!” he cried. “You don’t need to kill a fellow!” Green smiled, having regained his lost poise, and brought out his spit ball in this emergency. Clancy swung at it vainly. “Strike--two.” Once more the ball sped down like a white streak. This time Clancy connected with a crack that fetched the crowds up standing. But the roar was followed by a groan, as the ball lifted into deep center field and Merrell went after it. Merrell was more intent on the ball than on the ground, however. Clancy was running along to first and watching him when Merrell stumbled and fell. The ball came down a yard beyond him, and O’Day sent Clancy on to second, while once more the roar swelled out from the bleachers. “Green’s blown up! Merry to bat!” “A hit, Merriwell! Get a hit! Get a hit!” “One run wins the game! Get a hit!” That fly, which fell well within Merrell’s territory, and should have been fielded easily, went as an error instead of a hit. Therefore, in spite of the fact that Fardale had four runs, Merry was the only one who had so far been able to hit Green. One of his two hits was a scratch, and the other was a lucky jab by his own admission. Therefore, as he came up to the plate, he was anything but confident. He had already given Clancy the hit-and-run signal, for he himself had little hope of making another decent hit. As he stepped in the box and faced Green, he saw the man’s lean brown face smiling at him, and knew that the other was even cooler than he himself. For the second time, Green read danger in Merry’s eyes and resolved to take no chances. He sent down a wide one, and Chip lashed out at it in order to give Clancy a chance. The red-haired chap went to third, safe by a narrow margin. After that, Green sent down no more wide ones, but instead he placed them so high that Olcott was forced to get on his toes to reach them. Yet they never went too high for him; Green was a perfect master, and his control was absolute. Three of them sang past, while Merry waited desperately. He knew perfectly well that Green intended to pass him, in order to strike out the next three men.