“What sort of a human hinge have you got out there in short?” asked the gentleman alongside Lef; “I’ve seen some clever plays in my time, but that certainly beat them all out. Can that chap play baseball standing on his head?” “Oh! that’s Tom Budd, and he’s always doing stunts. Sometimes he succeeds, but more often makes a muss of it,” grunted Lef, who had felt disgusted to see Bellport mowed down so easily when things looked bright for a run. “I’m glad I happened to see him when he succeeded, then. That was worth ten times the price of the admission. I came to see a baseball match, but this is as good as a circus,” laughed the other. Lef moved away. Somehow or other he felt that he would be in more congenial atmosphere among some of the Bellport rooters, and listening to derogatory remarks concerning the fellow he detested. It was Ralph at the bat again, and this time he went out on a fly that Snodgrass captured after a hard run. Shadduck fanned after knocking about seven fouls that gave Clay a number of hard runs without any success at corraling one. And while Jack Comfort managed to lift one that landed him on first, he perished on the way to second, owing to Clay’s straight shoot to the bag. In their half of the third, Bellport managed to put one run over. Shaddock fumbled a hot liner that came his way, allowing the stout Bardwell to gallop to first. Then Clay lifted a fly that, while caught, gave the other a chance to land on second. “Play the game, fellows!” shouted the eager watchers, as the pitcher took his place to bat. Coddling bunted, and while out at first the chance was given Bardwell to settle himself comfortably on third. This compelled Snodgrass to hit, something he seldom did, preferring to get his base on balls. With a lucky little pop fly that neither Lanky nor Buster could reach before it fell, he brought his man in. Hough went out on a long fly to Comfort, so that the score was now two to one in favor of Columbia. Frank, when coming in, glanced up toward the grandstand. He knew very well just where his sister and Minnie Cuthbert were seated, and nodded his head with a smile in answer to the furious waving of the little purple and gold banners both girls carried. It was an inspiration to him to know that they were watching his work. Then he looked up at the beautiful pennant that floated over the field, offered by the same Mr. Garabrant who had towed their disabled launch, to the club winning the greater number of games in this tri-school league series of battles on the diamond. “You’ll get it, Frank, never fear!” shouted some one from the bleachers, seeing that look he gave. “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” jeered a Bellport rooter. “It’s a bully good fight, all right,” admitted a Clifford man, “and we’re only sorry to be out of it up our way. But most of our people want Columbia to win.”