Chase nodded none too confidently and went back to his place and Browne swung an eager bat above his shoulder. Possibly eagerness was Browne’s undoing, for he bit at the first one, which was almost shoulder high and far wide of the plate, but he only smiled when Gas asked him if he was practising and Medfield yelled its delight. The next offering was a ball that sent the batsman staggering back from the plate and brought hisses and cries of “He’s trying to hit him!” from the Toonalta bench. Gas, though, knew that Chase wasn’t trying anything of the sort, that the explanation was far simpler, that, in fact, Chase was rapidly pitching himself out and losing control. But he only spoke more confidently than ever. “Let him live, Pete! There aren’t any cigars in this game!” Browne scowled. “If he beans me the first thing you know’ll be a bat alongside your head, Fresh!” “I should worry,” answered Gas pleasantly, dropping to his knee to signal. “Come on, Pete! Make it good, old man! Don’t waste ’em on him!” Pete did waste one, though, for the ball passed wide of the plate. Browne laughed. “Got you scared, haven’t I?” he jeered. “Scared blue,” replied Gas. “Watch your head this time.” But the next one came with a hook and looked good and Browne let go at it. It wasn’t labelled “Home Run,” though, this time, for it went straight to Vic Despaigne, back of the goal path, and Vic took it neatly on the bound, studied the situation, and heaved to White. Hunt was two yards from the bag when the ball reached third base, and, although he made a clever slide, he should have been out. But, as before stated, this was not Billy’s day, and Hard Luck was still after him. Perhaps the throw was a trifle low, but Billy should have held it, nevertheless. But he didn’t, and while he was searching for it around his feet Hunt slid to safety, the bases were filled, and Toonalta was crazed with joy. Chase started badly with Ellis and put himself two in the hole at once. At third, Hunt was taking long leads and doing his utmost, ably assisted by the coacher there, to rattle the Blues’ pitcher, and it looked very much as though he was succeeding until Chase suddenly turned the tables on him by a quick peg to White, who had crept close to the bag unobserved. Caught two yards off, Hunt did the only possible thing and dug for the plate. But the ball was ahead of him and he doubled back again. Chase and Despaigne took a hand in the contest and in the end Hunt, making a despairing slide for the rubber, was ignominiously retired. Rider and Browne reached third and second respectively during the excitement, but, with two gone, the situation looked far brighter.