They had failed to rattle him while in the box, but that did not prevent the Bellport legions from indulging in a most astonishing din. Ralph never noticed what was going on. His eye was on Coddling. He wanted to guess what sort of a ball the clever Bellport twirler meant to dish up to him. “Watch that feller! He’s going to win the game if you let him hit it!” “Strike him out, Coddling. He’s dead easy!” “Hey, Ralph, old boy, you know what I told you? Nothing less than a three-bagger will do! Hear me?” called one fellow, who did not even know the batter to speak to; but on the ball field astonishing familiarity becomes the rule. Ralph had his teeth set hard. If it depended on him to win the game he meant that they should not be disappointed. He watched Coddling eagerly, yet with every muscle set for instantaneous work. Whack! “He done it! I told you so!” Ralph was jumping for first, while Paul had run down to second. The third baseman had knocked the ball down, but had to chase it, so that Coddling rushed over to cover third as in duty bound, in case Paul attempted to come along. But he went back to second, quite contented. Columbia stock rose just about then; and Herman again led his crowd whooping in concert: “Ho! ho! ho! hi! hi! hi! _veni! vidi! vici!_ Columbia! Sis boom, ah!” “Once more, fellows! You can do it! They’re going to pieces! See ’em creeping in, expecting to make a double play. Over the second base, and win the game, Ben, and the pennant!” Allison meant to do that same thing. He took a firm grip on his bat, and settled in his box to strike. Since that first time he had faced Coddling three times, and on every occasion had connected with the ball, though twice he went out, once at first and again when trying to stretch a fine hit into a triple, much to the disgust of his backers. The noise died away as if by magic. Every one was holding his or her breath, in the expectation of giving vent to a whoop when Allison had either done what he set out to do or passed out. Seymour stepped out and whispered to the batter. “He’s telling him to bunt!” cried a few, expecting that this would be the program; and not realizing that with the infield playing short it was next to suicidal to attempt anything along this order, and meant double play. Both basemen were playing well off, because they had nothing to fear. Excitement was keyed up to top notch. “Look out for Banghardt!” shrieked a coach; and Paul found that the center fielder had crept in, so that he came near being cut off from his bag. Again Coddling wound up to pitch. Allison let the sphere pass. “One ball!” The next time it came the batter smote it full “on the nose” and the sound of the collision electrified that entire assemblage like a shock from a gigantic battery. But alack and alas! as sometimes happens, while he drove the ball directly in the line he had marked out, it chanced to be just a few feet too low!