He shook off the touch of fear and steadied himself. Again Eliot gave a signal, and again he nodded. Strangely enough, the next batter hit a liner to the left of Springer, almost precisely as the other had done; but this time the pitcher's gloved fingers caught and held the ball, following which he instantly turned and snapped it to first base before the runner, who had started down the line, could get back. It was a double play, and a mighty shout of joy was flung forth from beneath the fluttering crimson banners of the Oakdale spectators. Again Phil was cheered. "Well done, Spring," complimented Eliot quietly, as Phil reached the bench. Then Herbert Rackliff, pale and desperate, rushed forth to the bench, catching Eliot's arm and saying: "Perhaps you're not aware that Mr. Springer has bet money on this game. He has bet money that Wyndham will win. If you don't believe me, ask him." Roger turned to Phil. "Is this true?" "Yes," was the husky answer, "it's true. I gave this sus-sneaking blabber seven dollars to bet on Wyndham, and I'll never gug-get over being ashamed of it as long as I live. He's the creature who gave away our signals to Wyndham. I hope I lose that mum-money, and, if you'll trust me, I'll do my level best to make myself lose it." The Oakdale captain turned on Rackliff. "Get off the field," he ordered sternly. "Get back where you belong, and be quick about it." Herbert retired, his last remaining hope being that Phil would go to pieces in the ninth. But Springer was strengthened and steadied by a great desire, and, although Oakdale's lead was not increased, he pitched so well that the slender margin was sufficient to give the visitors the victory. Not a Wyndhamite reached first, and two of the three who faced Springer were mowed down on strikes. The overjoyed Oakdale crowd charged onto the diamond and surrounded the winners as they were giving Wyndham a cheer. Springer was swept off his feet and caught up on the shoulders of the crowd, who bellowed his name again and again. Looking downward, he saw that his right leg rested on the shoulder of Rodney Grant, who was cheering madly. In the dressing room, a little later, Grant came up quietly and put forth his uninjured left hand. "Put it there, partner," he begged. "You sure turned the trick, and you held them down handsomely. It was a great victory." Springer seized the proffered hand, laughing to hide the fact that joy threatened to blind his eyes with tears. "It was a great victory," he agreed, thinking, however, of the victory he had won over himself. "Sure," beamed the Texan. "And now Oakdale ought to win the championship; she ought to win it with you and me--and Hooker, for pitchers." He said this laughing in a way that robbed his words of any touch of egotism.