Ben could always hit the Bellport pitcher. If he got on first there were other dangerous batters to follow. Just then they looked like real giants to Coddling; and yet at another time he had smiled disdainfully at the same fellows, and with coolness struck them out in succession. Allison was a good waiter usually. To-day he took toll of the very first ball that the Bellport pitcher sent twisting on its way. When a team gets in its stride, and is hitting with perfect confidence, all balls seem to look alike to them, and it is next to impossible to keep the sphere out of their reach. “That’s the way, fellows! Here’s Ben waiting for his ticket around the course. Bones, push him along, will you?” shouted Herman Hooker through his megaphone. Just as if he were taking his orders from that source, what did Shadduck do but lay down the most beautiful little bunt imaginable, right along the line, but keeping well within bounds. “Go it, you heifer!” shouted the bleachers. Bones never got to first, but there was a grin on his freckled face as he turned aside and retraced his steps, for he had landed his comrade on second, and that was what he had been instructed by Captain Seymour to do. Then up stepped Jack Comfort. It looked as though he meant to duplicate the performance of Bones, for he made a stab at the first ball. But that was only in the line of a trick with Jack. All the while he was picking out just where he could swipe the next ball that came along. [Illustration: BEN MADE A GALLANT SLIDE FOR HOME. _Columbia High on the Diamond_ _Page 215._] As the bat and ball came together with a vicious smash, there burst from the frantic crowd a howl such as had never before been heard on those Bellport grounds. “Run, Jack, run! Go it, Ben, you slow-coach. Hurry! the ball’s after you!” Ben made a gallant slide for home, though there was hardly any necessity for it. Still, he believed in making sure; and the ball did plunk in the catcher’s mitt even as his hand fell on the plate. “One run!” “A man on second, and only one out!” “Keep it going, you tigers. You’ve got Coddling’s measure all right. Put the Indian sign on him! Give us another cheer, Herman!” “All together, then, and with a whirl! Here you go, now! Ho! ho! ho! hi! hi! hi! _veni! vidi! vici!_ Columbia! Siss! boom! ay!” Herman and his cohort could not sit through such excitement as this. They had left the bleachers and were jumping up and down like a group of wild Indians, waving their arms, dancing in a circle, and shrieking until every mother’s son gave promise of being as hoarse as a crow on the morrow. If noise could coax Columbia to win this up-hill game, there was certainly every inducement in the world for them to accomplish that task. Lanky Wallace to the bat. Lanky had not distinguished himself overly much thus far during the day.