Three more innings saw no change in the score. Several hits were made off each pitcher, but good fielding, and a tightening up all around, prevented any damage resulting from such isolated cases. So the seventh commenced, with the strain greater than ever. “Hold them down, Frank! You’ve got it, if you do!” “But do some little batting yourselves, boys. Get at him! Coddling’s easy when you just know how!” jeered the other side. When Paul Bird stepped up to the plate to take his turn at the beginning of the seventh some one started to sing, “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean.” A score of voices instantly joined in, followed by hundreds of others, until there was so much noise that the decisions of the umpire could not be heard above it, and he had to depend on gestures entirely. And while the uproar was at its height Paul was sent to first on balls! “Coddling is getting rattled, boys! Keep it up!” shrieked a dozen frantic Columbia fellows, waving their ribbon bedecked hats wildly. “Watch Frank bring him in with a three-bagger! He can do it, all right!” sang the crowd, as the pitcher stepped quietly up to the plate. CHAPTER IV THE RALLY THAT CAME TOO LATE Frank gave no sign of the excitement that thrilled his every nerve. He realized that possibly a fortunate hit on his part right then and there would eventually win the game. Despite the furious racket that kept up on every hand, he faced Coddling, and prepared to do his very best to at least advance the runner. As a rule pitchers are not reckoned good batters, but Frank Allen had always been known to hit well. Coddling therefore tightened up, and determined to put his rival out of the running by tempting him with some of his astonishing assortment of curves and drops, for his swift ball had already cost him dear, so that he was afraid to use it often. Frank even allowed a strike to be called on him before he picked out one that seemed to his liking. What he did to that ball was a caution. It sailed away out in right, and Snodgrass had the run of his life to chase after it. Paul, reaching second, paused, an instant, for if the ball were caught, he would have some difficulty getting back to first in time. “Go on, Paul!” bellowed the coach through his hands. The noise had broken out worse than ever, so that each player had to be a law unto himself just then. “He muffed it! Run! run! run!” whooped everybody who had the interest of Columbia at heart, while the Bellport adherents looked dismal enough. It was an excusable error, for the fielder had fallen headlong at the instant his fingers touched the ball. He was up like a flash and chasing after it. Paul circled the bases and easily came home, but the coach held Frank at third, as the ball was coming in when he reached there.