Perhaps Lynton expected Walter to offer her something puzzling and so for awhile was at a loss to fathom his sort of pitching. At any rate, he managed to dispose of the first batsman easily, causing him to pop up a weak infield fly that settled cosily into Sanborn’s glove. But after that, the head of the Lynton batting-list coming up, the trouble began. Walter’s straight balls were fine for fattening batting averages! The only variation he attempted was in height, and he not always succeeded there. At all events, high, low, or medium, his offerings met ready acceptance and soon the fielders were very busy. Tom got his first chance in left field and made a brilliant catch after running half-way across the field. The infield scurried about like a lot of mice and the crack of bat against ball became terribly monotonous to the wearers of the blue stockings. Poor Walter stood up to it bravely, a rather sickly smile on his face, and fed his offerings to the delighted enemy. Before anyone realised it the bases were filled. To be sure, there were two out by that time, but that didn’t deter Lynton any. A hit past shortstop, and a runner came in. An error by Sanborn at first, and another run trickled over the plate. A smashing drive that was too hot for third baseman to handle left men on second and first. But Lynton’s best batsmen had passed now and the trouble was over, as it proved. A nice low ball was selected by the batter and it went far and high into centre field. The Blues, watching, groaned. For in centre stood young Peddie, his eyes fixed on the arching sphere and eagerness and excitement in every line of his tense poise. Tom dug across in the hope of making the catch, but there was no time for him to get under it. Down it came, while the bases were emptied, and up went Peddie’s hands. Then the miracle happened! The ball descended squarely into the fielder’s glove and, to the astonishment and joy of the Blues, actually stuck there! The side was out! Peddie was a hero and every fellow said nice things to him and thumped him on the back, just as they had thumped Tommy Hughes, and caused him to blush like a girl in pleasure and embarrassment. And Amesville, accepting that piece of good fortune as an augury, went to bat in the first of the ninth quite hopefully. CHAPTER XII “BATTER’S OUT”