The latter sent it humming back to second, for Lefty was coming down the line with the speed of a racehorse. But he, too, slid safely; and the breathless stillness was rent by the loud rejoicings of the great crowd of Blue Stockings’ admirers who had come over from the neighboring city to watch their team open against the Hornets. “Oh, you Locke!” they shrieked fondly. “What’s the matter with Lefty? He’s――all――right!” When the thunder of their accompanying stamping had died away, they turned their attention to Elgin, calling for airships and the like, until their voices were drowned by the howls of the disappointed opposition: “Take him out! Take him out! Take-him-out! He’s yellow!” The pitcher, white-faced, beads of perspiration besprinkling his forehead, stood shifting about near the slab, with downcast eyes and lips which trembled in spite of his efforts to steady them. Once he cast a swift glance toward the manager, but received no hoped-for sign. He wanted to be taken out. He was afraid. CHAPTER XLIV THE LEADING RUN Brennan’s reason for not doing at once the thing which was inevitable was not quite apparent. He had an obstinate streak in his make-up, and no doubt it went very much against the grain to see the man he had depended on and boasted about fall down so disastrously, though ordinarily that would have made no difference. At any rate, he held his hand, and it cost him another run. Rufe Hyland landed on the second ball pitched, and sent out a long fly to right field. The moment Johnny Burns caught the ball Daly darted for the plate. There was a momentary lull in the excitement as Burns made a great throw to Buck Fargo. Then the racket broke loose again as Daly slid over the dish in the nick of time; for Fargo had made a fruitless sweep of the hand to tag him. With the score tied and Locke on third, the visiting fans yelled without interruption as Pink Dalton came to the plate. Fargo again tried to brace Elgin up, but with poor success; and it was no credit to the pitcher that Red Pollock scooped up a red-hot grounder and lined it, sizzling, to the sack in time to end the inning and prevent further scoring. A storm of hoots and catcalls greeted Elgin as he walked slowly and dejectedly toward the bench. Brennan said nothing, but the look he cast at the twirler was more expressive than many spoken words could have been. Elgin, his face as flaming now as it had been pale, hurried past him, and slunk thankfully to the obscurity of the bench. When Lefty took his place on the slab, a roar of applause greeted him. He shot a glance at that upper box, and was even further heartened by the wave he received in return. His form was so perfect, and the support of his backers so full of new life and snap, that he retired the Hornets without letting a man reach second.