This brought affairs down to the ninth, and all over the field there was intense excitement. “This is the lucky Bellport inning!” shouted one fellow, encouragingly. “Watch them run the game out right here!” “Will they? Maybe, maybe not!” answered Jack Eastwick. Herman Hooker had jumped to his feet as Columbia went to bat for the last time. Up to the present he had been content to play a minor part, but now his time had come. “Give it to them, boys--give them the slogan we love, good and strong. Hi! hi! hi! ho! ho! ho! _veni! vidi! vici!_ Columbia! Siss! boom! ah!” Amid such a pandemonium Tom Budd struck out, though he died trying to find one of those balls which Coddling seemed to be twining around his neck. Seymour was somewhat more fortunate. He raised a fine fly, but unfortunately it landed in the outstretched hands of Smith, Junior, who did not seem to stir a yard. Paul Bird made a lucky hit that should have been an out, but the players were so nervous by this time that Lacy actually fumbled the ball. Frank, with all the encouragement that might accompany such backing as could spring from the “best yeller Columbia ever had,” as he jumped up and down, and waved his megaphone violently, sent a hot liner straight at Hough on second that nearly took him off his feet, though he held it. And then Bellport came to the bat. Every man looked grimly confident. Clay made a hit out of the first ball that came along, reaching out and stealing what was meant to be a wide one. How those Bellport rooters did shriek and jump! It seemed as though they would go crazy as they begged and implored Coddling to win his own game by advancing the runner by a little bunt. “He just can’t do it, boys!” called one fellow, after Coddling had twice thrust out his bat and failed to even touch the speeding ball. “Give him a pair of smoke glasses; the sun’s in his eyes!” “Three times and out, Coddling--take care, old hoss!” This time Coddling, in despair, struck savagely, and perhaps to his own surprise, tapped the ball smartly toward second. “Double ’em up!” arose the howl like a flash, for the average baseball rooter can see the possibilities of a play as soon as a player. And that was just what happened. Seymour snatched the ball from the ground with one hand, leaped over to his sack, and as his foot touched the same he threw for Lanky on first. Coddling was caught ten feet away, and a mighty groan attested to the strain under which the Bellport crowd was resting. Snodgrass again found that he just had to strike, for Frank was putting them over on purpose now, having full confidence in the men back of him. Smash! went the ball. Lanky fell over very much like a ten pin that has been caught by a rapidly moving ball, but as he sat there he held up his hand to prove that he had forked the sphere out of the air and gripped it tight!