The cheering now was incessant from both sides of the field, and this was not calculated to soothe the nerves of the worried pitcher. Nevertheless, had not Berry lost his head and forgotten that two were out, the game would have gone into extra innings. Cooper finally drove one toward the Barville shortstop, and Berry, leaping forward to catch the ball, saw Grant dashing toward the plate. Berry should have thrown to first, but, with his mind temporarily fogged, his only thought was to stop that run, and he hurled the ball to the plate. Copley was not prepared for this manoeuvre, and he leaped to get the whistling sphere, which, however, came high and wide, forcing him to reach for it. The umpire had barely time to run forward a short distance ere he stopped and crouched as Grant flung himself headlong in a slide. Getting the ball, Copley swung back to tag the runner, but ere the horsehide was brought down between Rod's shoulder-blades, his hand had found the plate. [Illustration: Ere the horsehide was brought down between Rod's shoulder-blades, his hand had found the plate.] "Safe!" shouted the umpire. And the game was won by the pitcher who had taken Springer's place in the fifth inning. CHAPTER XIII. RACKLIFF'S TREACHERY. Like one stunned Roy Hooker passed out through the gate and turned down the street, dully conscious of the continued rejoicing uproar behind him. Alternately buoyed by hope and weighted by fear, he had passed the most trying hour of his life, and now in his bosom he carried a heart that seemed sick and faint and scarcely able to pump the blood through his veins. "I was a fool to listen to Rackliff," he muttered; and over and over he kept repeating, "I was a fool, a fool!" Suddenly apprehensive lest he should be overtaken by some one who might observe his all-too-evident wretchedness, he quickened his steps and made straight for his home. He did not enter the house, and as he slipped through the yard he cast sidelong glances toward the windows, hoping his mother might not be looking out. In the carriage house he sat down on the box beside his motorcycle. "I was a fool--an awful fool!" he kept repeating. Presently, his mind running over the game, feature by feature, he began to realize that he had not felt as much elation as he would have supposed might come to him on witnessing Springer's misfortune in the fifth inning. He had imagined it would afford him unreserved exultation to see Phil batted out of the box, but his rejoicing had been most remarkably alloyed by an emotion of another sort, which even now he could not understand. And, as he sat there, slowly but surely he began to perceive the real reason for Springer's failure.