Roar after roar of applause went up. The Clippings, who had been nervous and unsettled, instantly regained their poise and confidence. “Take your time, Chip!” snapped Spaulding, from second. “That’s the ticket, old man!” cried McCarthy encouragingly. “L-l-lam into ’em!” piped up Chub. Frank smiled. Burkett, who covered first for the Clippers, advanced to the plate, pulled down his cap, and waited. “We’re all behind you, old-timer,” chirped Clancy. “Let him hit it, Chip!” cried Billy. None the less, he signaled for an inshoot. Burkett was plainly anxious to hit. Frank put over a fast inshoot. The ball fairly smoked with speed, and Burkett swung too late. “Strike--uh--one!” “Land on him!” yelled Bully Carson. “All he’s got is speed!” Billy called for another of the same, but Merry shook his head. He guessed that Burkett wanted speed, and would be looking for it, so he put over a fadeaway that drew Burkett for another strike. “This fellow’s a cinch!” cried Billy. Burkett looked determined. Studying him for a moment, Frank nodded at the signal for a jump ball. He sent the sphere down to the plate waist-high. Burkett brought down his bat, but the ball seemed to jump over it, and plunked into Billy’s mitt. “Out!” Cheer after cheer rolled up, as Burkett sullenly retreated, and was replaced by Bangs. The Clipper third baseman was a wiry, alert fellow, and he chopped down his bat as if ready for anything that could come along. Merry determined to let him hit. So, without pretending to pitch, he merely tossed over the ball and waited. Bangs gasped, then struck viciously. Another crack, and the ball went on a bee line to McCarthy. And Dan fumbled it. A groan swelled out from the crowd, but it changed instantly to a cheer. For McCarthy had picked up the ball and slammed it over to Clancy a yard ahead of Bangs. “One, two, three!” yelled the crowd, confident now that it would see a real game of ball. A storm of applause greeted the Clippings as they walked in. “Rotten fumble,” grunted McCarthy. “Don’t you believe it!” cried Clancy, slapping his shoulder. “You retrieved it before it had a chance to work, Dan. Fine business!” “You’re up first, Dan,” said Merry. “Now go in and repeat!” McCarthy grinned happily, and strode out to the plate. He waited while Carson tossed over his warmers-up. “This pie-eater’s pretty soft, Bully,” snarled Squint. “Let him hit. He ain’t worth fanning.” The lanky chap opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again, and stepped into the box. Carson eyed him a moment, and the bleachers fell silent in suspense. “Speed fer him, Bully,” cried Fletcher. “He’s scared already.” Carson nodded and wound up. The ball seemed to come with startling speed. In reality it was a slow fader, and it fooled McCarthy completely. “Strike--uh--one!”