Hodge asked the umpire to give him a pass to first on the interference of Sprowl; but the umpire had not seen it, Sprowl denied it, and Bart was declared out on the third strike. This made two men out, with Morgan and Merriwell on third and second. Gamp was the batter, and everything seemed to depend on him. Wolfers was on his mettle. His pitching against Joe was superb, for the tall chap did not touch the ball. The Merries had been prevented from securing a run. They felt that they had been defrauded, for to all it seemed likely that Bart might have made a hit only for the interference of Sprowl. As a pitchers’ battle the game was a great exhibition. Although seven hits were obtained off Wolfers in seven innings, the visitors could not score. On the other hand, being in the most perfect form, Frank did not permit a hit in seven innings. The eighth opened with Badger at bat. Buck managed to roll a slow one into the diamond. Both Cronin and Wolfers went after it, bothering each other, and Buck reached first by tall hustling. Then came the hit of the day. Merriwell was the man. Each time he had faced Wolfers there was “something doing.” This time Wolfers tried harder than ever to strike him out; but Frank slammed the ball against the centre-field fence for three bags, sending Badger home with the first run of the game. Spud Bailey nearly died of delight. “I knowed it!” he whooped. “Wot d’yer t’ink of him now, Freck?” “He’s a lucky hitter,” said Freckles. But the sympathy of several small boys had turned to the visitors. They admired Bart Hodge for standing up for his rights. “G’wan, Freck!” they cried. “He’s a corkin’ player, an’ you know it.” “I hope them fellers win,” said a tall, thin boy. “Dey’re all right.” “They’ll win; don’t worry about that,” assured Spud. Ben Raybold and Seymour Whittaker had found seats together after the excitement caused when Hodge hit Sprowl. Raybold had complimented Whittaker on his manliness and sporting blood in taking the stand he did. “It may cost you a hundred dollars, Mr. Whittaker,” said Raybold. “I don’t care a rap!” retorted the Elktonite. “I want to see a square game, win or lose.” After Frank’s hit, Raybold asked Whittaker what he thought of Merry. “He’s the greatest ball player I ever saw!” exclaimed Whittaker. “We must have him on our team.” “You haven’t money enough in the State of Ohio to get him on salary,” said Raybold. That run obtained by Badger was the only one secured in the eighth. The Elks tried hard, but they could not fathom Merry’s curves. In the first of the ninth the visitors did nothing, Wolfers striking out three men, one after another, as fast as they faced him. Although the Elkton pitcher was sore, he kept up his good work. He was not a quitter. He played ball right along, never failing to do his best. When the Elks came to bat in their half of the ninth Jack Lawrence implored them to get a run somehow.