Four men faced Chase in the third, the first getting a scratch hit, the second sacrificing him to the next bag and the other two proving easy outs. In the home team’s half, Jim Wheelock flied out to centre fielder, Joe Taylor to first baseman--it was a hot liner, but the chap held onto it--and Colton went out third to first. In the fourth, Toonalta started out with a walk, followed with a sacrifice hit, a fly to Collins in left field, another pass and still another one--three for the inning. Then Jordan was warming up over behind third and the infield was begging Chase to take his time and stop fooling, and, with bases filled, half a hundred seemingly insane spectators yelling like wild Indians, Gas Hoffman looking pretty set about the mouth and Pete Chase plainly slipping, hit a long fly to Collins and so ended as nerve-racking a quarter of an hour as the contest provided! When that ball settled into Hal Collins’ hands the shout that went up must certainly have been heard at the corner of Main and Whitney Streets, which is equivalent to saying a mile and a half away! Anyone who has played through that sort of a half-inning knows the vast and blessed relief that comes when the end arrives and the men on bases turn, grumbling, away and the team trots triumphantly in. They pounded each other’s backs and slapped Chase on the shoulder and shook hands with him quite as though he had not himself caused all the anxiety and suspense. June’s face was one big, white-toothed grin! “That’s their last chance!” proclaimed Captain Taylor. “They’ll never get another one like it. Now, then, fellows, let’s go in and cop this game right now!” But they didn’t. Billy White hit a weak one to Ellis and was out by a mile. Hoffman popped up a mean little foul to the catcher and Wayne, hitting safely to short left, obeyed instructions and tried to stretch the hit to two bases and was caught a foot off by a fine throw from left fielder. Again Toonalta secured a hit, her fifth, after one man was gone in the first half of the next inning. It was Gore, shortstop, who performed the feat, and it was Gore who gave as pretty an exhibition of base-stealing as one ever sees. He stole second when the Toonalta catcher struck out and blocked Hoffman’s throw and then stole third a moment later. Gas got the ball to White as quick as he could, but Gore was already sliding his cleats against the bag. Even Medfield cheered that exploit, realising the next instant that, even with two down, everything predicted another tally for the enemy. But once more Fortune favoured the Blues. Or perhaps the credit should go to Pete Chase. At least, Wayne didn’t deserve much of it, for the ball that came at him was breast-high and he didn’t have to move from his tracks to take it. Anyhow, it ended another anxious moment, and the Chenangos again went to bat.