Although he shrugged and sneered, away down deep in his heart Elgin felt a touch of apprehension lest the words of Buster Brown were prophetic. CHAPTER XXXV THE STEAL HOME The game, which had started out so loosely, and threatened to become wretched at any moment, was now turned into a pitchers’ battle, with Locke and Elgin working against each other. Settling down, Lefty became silent, attending strictly to business. At no time, save in the threatening moments, did he seem exerting himself to his utmost. The uproar of the crowd, calculated to disturb his coolness, seemed no more effective than the murmur of a summer breeze. “If they think they can rattle him in this little one-horse burg,” Kennedy whispered to himself, “they should have seen him pitchin’ before thirty thousand howlin’ fans in the Big League. Why, he’s just monkeyin’ with that bunch. With him, we can walk away with the bunting, sure as fate.” With him! But what right had he to keep Lefty Locke, under contract with the Blue Stockings? What right had he to hold this man, the lack of whose pitching might prevent the Blue Stockings from taking the championship? Was it not his duty to notify Al Carson as soon as possible that the missing pitcher had turned up in Deering? “But Lefty’s under suspension,” thought Kennedy. “They wouldn’t be using him now if they had him. Oh, I’ve got to talk it over with him, and talk straight. It’s the only way.” There was little time for thoughts like these. The locals still held that one-run lead, and Elgin, pitching like a man with life at stake, refused in the sixth and seventh innings to let one of the Deers as much as threaten to tie it up. On the other hand, in both of those innings the Bucks got a runner to second with only one out, whereupon, however, Locke tightened promptly, and there was nothing further doing. The eighth opened with Brown leading off, and he talked to Elgin a blue streak until the pitcher finally fanned him. “Go sit down, and close up that hot-air vent,” said Bert. Coffin picked a slant, and smashed it like a bullet straight into the hands of the shortstop for the second out. Then, again, Lefty Locke stepped forth, and Peter McLaughlin shrieked: “Here’s the man to hit him! Here’s the boy! It’s all off now! He’ll tie it up.” Once more, away down in Elgin’s heart, he felt that throb of apprehension. This was the man who had ruined his chances in the Big League, the man who had seemed favored in everything by luck――Lucky Locke he should be called, Elgin thought. And only for the chance that had brought Hartford over nearly into center field, Locke would have scored Brown on a clean drive the last time up. “I’ll pass him,” declared Elgin suddenly. “I’ll pretend I’m trying to put the ball over, but I’ll pass him.”