“All out,” said Tommy. “Say, Hal! Oh, _Hal_! Give us a home run, Hal! Get out! Of course you can. We want some more runs.” “I guess we don’t stand much show of winning this afternoon,” went on Pete. “With Rindgely out of it and Allan all balled up, I can see Robinson getting a few points.” “They’ll win first in the mile, all right,” answered Tommy. “Hooker’s not in the same class with Rindgely this spring, and Harris isn’t a bit better; though maybe he’ll manage to get placed. As for Allan, he never has had any too good a chance at the two miles, and now, after all this rumpus, it’s a fair bet he’ll be out of it entirely. It’s a mean shame the way things have gone, and when you think that it’s all Rindgely’s fault, expulsion doesn’t seem a bit too bad for him.” “Maybe,” said Pete, doubtfully, “but I don’t want to be the feller to get him bounced; that’s all. If Allan’s confounded old relative doesn’t come to time I’ll--well, I guess I’ll give Rindgely’s statement to you and let you attend to things.” “You’ve got another guess, Pete,” said Tommy. “_I_ don’t want anything to do with it. Besides, you worked the racket and ought to see it out.” Pete sighed dolefully. “I suppose I’ll have to,” he murmured. Again the inning closed without a tally, and Robinson came in for her last turn at bat. Her players looked very determined, and it seemed not impossible that they would go in and make up the four runs that threatened to defeat them. And the band played again. Pete and Tommy were driven from their places by the crowd, which had left the stands and were invading the field, and they allowed themselves to be pushed forward to the foul-line. “I suppose Allan thinks I’m a brute,” said Pete, dismally. “I didn’t go near him last night. But I just couldn’t stand seeing him so miserable, and not blurting out everything I knew. So I fought shy. I just hope it ends all right.” Whether that ended all right another chapter will have to tell, but there was no doubt about the game ending that way. Robinson went down before superb pitching, and with the score still 9 to 5, the spectators flooded over the field and their cheers drowned even the band. CHAPTER XXIV “ON YOUR MARK!” Once more the crowds were moving out to Erskine Field. It was after one o’clock, and experienced persons knew that there were no reserved seats and that “first come first served” was the rule. The midday sun shone warmly and only enthusiasts looked forward with pleasure to sitting on the unshaded stands for the next three hours. Robinson’s athletes went out William Street in two barges, their paraphernalia following them in a tumble-down express wagon drawn by a limping sorrel nag, whose bridle was draped with brown and white.