“Arm getting tired?” asked Mr. Cummings solicitously. Tom shook his head and smiled. “No, sir, it’s my head. I never knew before,” he added, “that a pitcher did so much pitching with his head!” “Well, just you keep it up, son. You’ve done great work so far. Don’t you let ’em get at you this time!” “I’ll try not to,” replied Tom quietly, slipping out of his coat. But the pace had been hard, and Tom was feeling it now. He put himself in a hole with the first batsman when what should have been a straight one went wild, an out-shoot missed the plate by an inch and a drop was judged too low by the umpire. With three balls and no strikes, Tom recalled Mr. George’s advice and shook his head when Sam asked for an in-shoot. Instead he sent a ball straight over, fast but with nothing on, and scored a strike. Again Sam wanted a curve, and again Tom shook his head. This time, with a change of pace, he tried a slow ball in the groove, and the batsman struck and missed. “He can’t do it again, Jimmy! Make it be good, old scout!” shouted the coach on first. Another straight ball in the groove, breast-high this time. The batter found it, there was a sharp _crack_, and the ball was sailing into the outfield over second baseman’s head. By the time Tommy Hughes had run in and thrown it to Frank Warner the runner was safe on second base, and Petersburg was howling her triumph. For a minute it seemed that Tom was going to put himself in the hole again, for his first two deliveries were balls. But a “knuckler” fooled the second batsman and a drop that looked awfully good until it was almost at the plate evened the score. Then a low one straight across the rubber, which the batsman swung at terrifically and missed by inches, made the first out. The next man landed on the first ball and drove it between shortstop and third, but Joe Kenny had sneaked in and his throw to the plate, while it let the batsman get to second, held the first runner at third, and brought a salvo of applause from the home-team’s supporters. Tom was bothered now by the memory of that steal to the plate and was afraid to wind up lest the runner on third duplicate the performance of his team-mate. The result was that the batsman, after fouling several times and having two strikes called on him, got his base on balls. There was but one out now and the bases were filled, and Petersburg was cheering and shouting continuously and beating time lustily with feet and hands. Back of first and third the coachers kept up an unceasing cross-fire. On the bench Mr. George leaned forward anxiously. “If he gives that fellow one on the outside, it’s all over,” he muttered. Mr. Talbot nodded. “If we get out of this mess with less than two runs coming across, we’ll be lucky,” he said. Sam Craig walked down and conferred a minute with Tom, and the visiting partisans hooted loudly. The infield moved in to cut off runs at the plate. It was Petersburg’s chance to win the game.