Just before the ball reached Badger it struck a small pebble and was deflected. Buck managed to cuff it with his glove, but did not get hold of it. It rolled toward second. Badger went after it, Cronin being forced back to the bag. Merry took in everything quickly, seeing that it would be dangerous for the Kansan to attempt a throw to first. It was extremely doubtful if Rush, a fast runner, could be caught, and a bad throw would let Cronin reach third, to say nothing of the possibility that it might permit him to score. Therefore Frank shouted for Buck to hold the ball. “Well! well! well!” laughed Rush, as he crossed the initial sack. “This is too much!” “It is,” agreed Browning. “You should have been out.” Badger was dismayed, but he did not receive a calldown from Frank. Nevertheless, Merry regretted that he had not placed Morgan at short after taking him out of the box. Buck was playing out of his regular position, while Morgan could cover shortstop’s territory in a most beautiful manner. It was too late now, however; Morgan had been retired. Badger was the only man for the position, Stretcher having left the team at Ashport to return to his home in Missouri. Jack Lawrence, the manager of the Elks, was pleased by the prospect of victory. On hearing that the Elks would play with the Merries, the managers of other teams in the league had given Lawrence the laugh, all of them saying his great aggregation would be downed by the visitors. Lawrence was anxious to win the game. Glade, the right fielder of the Elks, was the next man to hit. That is, he was the next man in order on the batting list. He did not try to hit, for it was not necessary. Merriwell’s control was poor, and he could not find the plate. Two balls were called. Then came a strike, although, if anything, the umpire favored Frank. “He can’t find the pan again,” yelled a coacher. It seemed that he was right, for the next one pitched was a ball—and the next. Glade was sent to first. The bags were filled, with only one out. Well might the Elks and the Elkton crowd be confident and jubilant. Things were coming their way. The local team had played an uphill game, and victory seemed in sight. Frank was in a tight box. Tinker, the next batter, was no slouch with the stick. He had a reputation for making hits when they were badly needed. Behind the wires of his mask, the face of Bart Hodge looked grim and a trifle worried. Hodge knew now that Merry was in anything but good form. He realized that the game might go against them, and no one disliked to lose a game more than did Bart, the bulldog. Especially hard was it to lose after seeming to have victory within reach. But Hodge did not have a thought of giving up. “Line it out, Tink!” urged Rush. “We’ve quit fooling. Give us some runs.” Tinker looked harmless enough. He was an awkward chap with a half-foolish face. Apparently he did not waste much of his time in thinking real thoughts.