Like a flash the Specter backstop raced out, snatched at it, fumbled horribly, and then, in an effort to get Hyland, threw four feet over the third baseman’s head. By the time the left fielder, slow in backing up, had secured the sphere, and lined it back to the plate, Hyland had one foot on the rubber. And the delirious fans were shrieking themselves speechless. CHAPTER IV REAL PITCHING “Talk about horseshoes!” grinned Stillman, when the first mad uproar had begun to lessen. “That’s the greatest ever. Looks as if the boys had a mighty good chance of cinching the game now.” Manager Carson had emerged from the obscurity of the bench, and was on the coaching line again. Over by first base Captain Grant was capering about, a broad grin on his face. “Going up, going up, going up!” he chanted to the air of a popular ditty. “Tied her nicely, but we won’t stop there. You know what to do, Kid. Beat it off that cushion, Joe!” Kid Lewis hustled to the plate, and Welsh pranced away from the sack, ready to go down on the first slim chance. Unfortunately for the Blue Stockings, Donovan seemed unaffected by the two blazing errors which had permitted the locals to even up the tally. Instead of going to pieces, he tightened up wonderfully, holding Welsh at first, and fanning the batter with swiftness and dispatch. As the Blue Stockings took the field for the opening of the ninth the fans were on tiptoe with excitement. If Lefty could hold the visitors down, there remained a chance for the home team to break the deadlock in the last half. Could he hold them? Bush Aldrich was the first man up. The crowd remembered vividly what Bush had done to Pete Grist. Besides, the batters who followed were none of them slouches. As Locke walked briskly across the diamond the stands echoed with encouraging, beseeching shouts. Then a sudden, tense silence fell upon the great inclosure. Calm and steady, Lefty stepped into the box. He paused a second, his eyes on the batter, and then handed up a high one. Aldrich started to strike, but checked himself, and a ball was called. Then the southpaw tried an outcurve. Bush still declined to bite. “That’s right, Bush,” cried Murray. “Make him put ’em over. He’s got to.” An elusive drop followed, which Aldrich barely missed. The next ball looked good, and he hit it. It was a line drive to right, which Rufe Hyland should have taken with ease, instead of muffing. Aldrich stretched himself, and reached the initial sack a second before the ball, quickly recovered and thrown by the discomfited fielder, spanked into Spider Grant’s mitt.