Ben Stone got the first clean hit off Sanger, driving the ball zipping through the infield. Eliot, who followed, signaled that he would bunt, and Stone was well on his way toward second when the Oakdale captain lay a dead one down a few feet in front of the pan. Roger came near turning his attempted sacrifice into a hit, but Sanger managed to get the ball and whip it to first in time to catch the runner by a margin of the closest sort. "That's playing the game, all right," cried Nelson from the coaching line. "Here's where we score." "In your mind," derided Copley. Sile Crane, trying hard to bring Stone home, made four fouls in succession, and then struck out. "Two men, cap," grinned Copley. "Old Stoney will expire at the second station. Here's the cowboy; take his pelt, hide, horns and hoofs." When Sanger had fooled Grant twice, it began to look as if he really would succeed in "taking his pelt"; but, declining to reach for the decoys, Rod finally met the ball on the trade mark, lining it over the center fielder's head, after which he made third before he was stopped by the wild gestures and cries of the delighted coacher, Nelson. Roy Hooker swallowed a lump in his throat. "Why, they're hitting Sanger!" he muttered huskily. "Hitting him!" shouted the overjoyed fellow at Roy's elbow. "They're hammering him for fair. Told you they might do it." "But he'll brace up," said Roy. "He's got to brace up." "Let's hope he won't till the fellows put this game on ice. Here's Cooper. He's not a strong batter, but---- Oh, gee! look a' that! Look a' that! A Texas leaguer! That scores Grant!" Indeed, Chipper had bumped a Texas leaguer over the head of the second baseman, who made a desperate but futile effort to reach the ball; and Oakdale had every reason to cheer as Rodney Grant easily scampered home from third. Sanger really seemed to be off his feet, and Sleuth Piper, trying for a hit, drove two fouls into the crowd on the bleachers. "Straighten 'em out a little, Pipe," pleaded Cooper, returning for the second time to first. "You've got my tongue hanging out now." Copley, squatting, signaled for a straight ball. Sanger, apprehensive and nervous, shook his head. Copley promptly repeated the signal, and insisted on it. Finally Sanger obeyed, putting one straight over. Sleuth swung at that straight one, his heart full of confidence, but he missed it cleanly. In a moment he was raging at the catcher, who had promptly snapped off his mask and tossed it aside. "Somebody will break your head if you try that again," snarled Piper. "What's the matter with you?" flung back Copley belligerently. "You've got bats in your belfry." "You'll have a bat across your belfry if you repeat that trick," threatened Sleuth stiffly. "That's all I've got to say. Don't you touch my bat again when I'm hitting."