“Yes, Coddling, one, two, three for yours, now. And start right in with this guy of a catcher!” “What have you got on him, hey? Did he let a ball pass him like your feller? He ain’t so hefty, but he’s the stuff they make champions out of!” declared a Columbia backer, a brawny blacksmith, whose appearance alone was enough to inspire respect, so that the Bellport man dared make no answer. Paul waited. He did not want to appear too anxious. He knew that the man who was hurling that ball over was just as nervous as they make them, and he hoped to profit by this. Still, he could not hold off when he felt sure he saw a ball coming within his reach. Too late after he struck he learned that it was one of Coddling’s shrewd outshoots, and that it had jumped beyond his reach. “Get a pole, sonny!” advised some one from the crowd. “He felt for it that time; now he’s going to take some!” shouted another. “Strike two!” came the voice of the umpire, though Paul had not tried to connect; and that was one of Coddling’s equally clever inshoots which had seemed as if about to miss the plate by a foot, yet took a sudden turn and shot in. If one were only a mind reader, Paul thought, and could guess every time what the pitcher intended to do, how easy it would all be. Suddenly changing his hold upon his bat, Paul thrust it out with the intention of bunting. He managed to connect, and was off like a flash, though doubtful as to his chances for reaching first, for he felt that he had not made as neat a drop of the ball as he had hoped. Still, the ball player to be successful must try to the utmost, no matter how discouraging the prospect, always hoping that some little luck may turn things his way--a dropped or fumbled ball has given many a base that was not earned. “Run, Paul! Harder and you’ll get there!” shrieked Herman through his megaphone, and the sound seemed to spur the catcher to even greater exertions. Runner and ball seemed to arrive at the same second. Some shouted that he was out, and partisans of Columbia cried that he was safe. The umpire steadied his hand. That meant the runner had the benefit of the doubt, and should remain where he was on first. Then Bedlam seemed to break out! Even though every fan from Bellport knew deep down in his heart that the decision was just, still he felt it incumbent on him to howl at the umpire, and the ancient word, “robber!” was heard right and left. The old Princeton man only smiled, and turned his attention to the game. Doubtless he chuckled at hearing the old familiar outbursts to which he had listened many a time himself, and perhaps joined in shouting at the referee. By degrees the excitement began to ooze out, as attention became riveted on the next man at bat. This was Ralph.