It would have made no difference at any rate, for Tom Budd struck out, after he had knocked up four fouls and quite tired Buster with false starts. One inning had been played. The score stood one to nothing, in favor of Columbia. “Good boy! Do it some more, West!” Ralph went into the box for that second inning, resolved to continue his cool methods, and not allow anything to rattle him. His first man he managed to get with considerable effort. Smith, Jr., was possessed of a good batting eye, and could not be easily fooled with fade-aways and such. Still, he fell before that wonderful spit ball that had such an erratic course, and the umpire finally announced that the sizzling straight one that burned over the plate was the signal for him to go into retirement. After that Smith, Sr., stood up to give an account of himself. He never appeared without his usual grin, and even the taunts of the crowd did not change his expression an iota. “Smash!” That was Smith, Sr.’s bat connecting with the ball. “Run!” shrieked scores of voices, as the bleachers arose to a man to see just where the ball had gone. Allison was after it, and making rapid progress over the stubby grass in left. “He can get it--good old Ben is on the spot!” yelled one well wisher. “Will he--maybe, maybe not!” sang out Jack Eastwick, mockingly. Allison did his best to get there; but there was too much steam to that hit, and it escaped him, while Smith cantered home amid a salvo of frenzied shouts. CHAPTER XVII NEARING THE END The game moved along slowly. Seven full innings had been played, and the score was still low. It had swung around until it stood in favor of Bellport, four to three. “It’s anybody’s game yet!” shouted several. “Get into harness, boys! Put on another wrinkle and win out! You can do it, Columbia!” “Where’s Herman Hooker? Get that voice of yours working just now. Give the boys encouragement. That’s all they want to pull out! Start her up, Herman!” “Yes, tune up, Herman!” And as Bellport came to bat for the beginning of the ninth, with no change in the score as yet, Herman marshalled his cohorts in the bleachers, and with that strident voice of his to lead, began to cheer in concert, bleat out the famous school cry, and sing “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean,” the immense crowd joining in until the volume of sound might have been heard a mile away. “Careful, Ralph; this is a crisis!” Frank Allen had said as his friend picked up his glove and started toward the box. Ralph looked perfectly cool. Indeed, many who saw him, and knew that this was his first game in big company, prophesied that he would turn out to be the greatest pitcher Columbia had ever known, given a little more experience. He had just sent one over, and smiled to hear the umpire instantly call a strike, when there arose a medley of voices from the point just beyond the termination of the bleachers.