“Up!” yelled Wiley, who was on the coaching line. “Up and sail for port! Hooray, the score is tied! Now we’ll win! I knew the disgrace of defeat could not fall on us!” Bimm scrambled up and scooted for the plate, while the spectators rose and watched, some yelling for joy. Bob Gowan yelled as loudly as his wheezy voice would permit, at the same time slapping Grafter on the shoulder. “It’s our game, after all!” he said. “Right here is where we win it!” Among the spectators another man was highly elated. He was Hobe Manton, who whooped lustily. “That’s the trick!” he shouted. “I thought my money was gone, but now I feel it in my pocket with some more to keep it company.” Of course Melvin McGann was delighted. But suddenly something happened to change the tune of the rejoicing ones. Apparently no one had observed that Buck Badger had worked in from the far outfield until he was not a great distance behind third. He happened to be in the right place to get the ball with little delay. Bimm was halfway from third to the plate when Badger threw. Hodge was on the plate. He saw the ball coming, but did not put up his hands until it was quite near. An instant after he did put them up the ball spanked into them. Bimm had not been warned, and he had made no effort to slide. Bart stepped off instantly and met him, tagging him with the ball. There was silence—then another roar. This time the Merriwell admirers shouted. “What’s this?” gasped Cap’n Wiley, looking round in amazement. “Who threw in that ball?” The umpire declared Bimm out. Wiley saw that Badger had thrown the ball, and his head dropped. “Alas!” he muttered; “thus my fondest hopes vanish one by one. It has been thus ever since the days of my innocent boyhood on Nigger Island.” Mike Grafter smote Bob Gowan on the shoulder and yelled with delight, while Gowan seemed ready to collapse in a heap. “Ha! ha! ha!” roared Grafter. “Ho! ho! ho! The wind changed suddenly, Bob. It’s different now. They’re all out. It’s over, my boy. They won’t have another chance like that. The game is just the same as finished.” “I dunno but you’re right,” admitted Gowan weakly. “That was awful! I’ll never recover from it.” Frank congratulated Badger as the Kansan came in. “The right man in the right place, Buck!” he said. “That was pretty work.” Wiley was silent now. An atmosphere of sadness had fallen on him, and his mouth was closed. Perhaps no one present felt worse than Hobe Manton. “Rotten! rotten! rotten!” he kept repeating. “If they’d tied it then they would have won. I’ve lost my money! I’m busted.” “It looks that way,” said Dent Frost. “And we’ve lost something on your advice,” muttered Necker sourly. The ninth inning was a swift one. O’Neill held the Merries down, but in turn Frank did not permit a single one of the three Outcasts to face him to touch the ball. All through the game he had done his level best, and the new curve had kept the great Outcasts from doing any hitting.