Merry took his time. He knew he was in poor condition, yet he was fighting to win the game, if such a thing could be done. For once in his life, he lacked confidence; but this was caused by his lame ankle, which had seriously interfered with his control. In endeavoring to fool Cronin he put one straight over. It happened that Cronin had not expected it and simply drove a foul down back of first base. Hodge was shaking a little, for he saw that Merry was in no condition to pitch against good batters. “Give me another like that,” invited Cronin. “Once is enough,” smiled Merry. “Why didn’t you take advantage of your opportunity?” “Oh, well, give me anything. I’ll hit anything you get over the pan.” In spite of this boast, Frank finally struck Cronin out with a ball close to his shoulder. Hodge breathed easier. “Merry will do it,” he thought. “He never fails. It isn’t in him to fail. But I fear he’ll fix his ankle to-day so he’ll take no part in the meet at Ashport.” Perhaps Bart was the only one who fully realized how much it was costing Frank to pitch that game. Two men were out now, and two were on bases. Sparks, the centre fielder of the Elks, advanced to the plate. “Give it a ride, Sparkie!” implored Rush. “You can do it! You must do it!” “Hit it! Beef it out!” roared the crowd. Sparks was eager to comply, for he felt that the game depended on him. He was a fine hitter, although Merry had struck him out in the eighth. Frank worked carefully, taking all the time permissible. Hodge talked to him soothingly. “This chap is shaking, Frank,” said Bart. “He remembered what you did to him before. He knows you can do it again. Watch him shake.” “Shake your grandmother!” growled Sparks. “It would be shameful to shake an old lady like that,” said Hodge. “I wouldn’t think of it.” “Str-r-r-rike—kah two!” called the umpire, as Sparks missed a bender. “Got him, Merry!” said Hodge confidently. “It’s a ten-inning game.” “Who told you so much?” grinned Sparks. “It’s all settled,” declared Bart. “Shut your eyes next time you swing. You’ll do just as well.” He was trying to bother the batter by talking to him. Frank attempted to fool Sparks with the next ball pitched. To his dismay, he realized the moment the ball left his hand that it was certain to curve over the plate. Sparks was watching like a hawk. He saw the ball break and judged it correctly. A moment later he hit it. At the crack of ball and bat the spectators seemed to rise as one man. They saw the ball go sailing out on a line, rising higher gradually. It was a long, hard drive, not a rainbow fly. Sprowl and Kitson capered along over the bags. Gamp stretched his long legs in an effort to get under the ball. He covered ground with amazing strides. “All to the mustard!” yelled Rush. “He couldn’t touch it in a thousand years! The game is ours, boys! We had to have it!” “Get dot pall under, Choe!” squawked Dunnerwurst. “Pick id oudt uf a cloudt! You can dood id!”