“He’s due for a hit, fellows, mark me!” cried one enthusiast, and Lanky heard, for he grinned and nodded, as if he felt it in his bones. Coddling was wabbling by now. He had weakened in the great strain. Somehow he believed in his soul that Lanky had it in for him, and actually began to toss wide ones, having less fear of the next two batters. But Lanky was indignant, and did not mean to be cheated of his prey. If the mountain refused to come to Mahomet, then Mahomet must go to the mountain. “Step out and take one, Lanky, old boy!” “Don’t you dare let him pass you! He’s tricky, all right, and he knows you can swat it! Oblige us, Lanky, please!” Lanky evidently could not find it in his heart to refuse such pleading. And he “swatted it” so very hard that Smith, Jr., had to run like a deer to keep the long-legged first baseman from making a clean sweep of the bases. The score tied, and a man on third, with only one out! Imagine the racket that ensued. Men began to shake hands with each other in their intense emotional excitement, that is, men who owned to a partiality for Columbia. As for the good people of Bellport, they cheered in a faint way, feeling the strain, but not exactly liking the way things were going against them. “Now, Buster, _you_ know! Pick out a good one, and send it over the fence!” Buster wanted to do just that. It would have pleased him immensely to have been the one to bat in the run needed to lead the score, and possibly win the game. But he was over anxious, or else Coddling got a new grip on himself; for Buster ingloriously struck out. A groan went up from the Columbia High partisans, for they had been indulging in hopes that the wonderful Coddling had gone to pieces. Tom Budd stepped up to try his luck. He had been responsible for one of the earlier runs in the game, and there was hope that he could connect with a twister, just as before. When the smack of the bat announced that he had, a shout started to break loose; but it instantly degenerated into a groan, followed by whoops from the Bellport adherents. For Tom Budd had knocked up a soaring foul that dropped into the big mitt of Clay, and was smothered there. During their half of the eighth the Bellport boys went out one, two, three. So the ninth inning opened. Once again the Columbias had a chance to distinguish themselves. Seymour himself started things moving this time with a hot one that stung the hands of Herbert Lacy at short, so that he fumbled it, and the runner just reached the bag in time to be called safe, though it was a close call. Paul Bird knew that it was his part of the play to advance the runner a base. He waited carefully while Coddling took his time and recovered his wind. Then Paul tapped a bunt close to the plate. Clay, in his eagerness to handle it, fought the ball. It was just about two seconds, but he saw he had lost his man at second, and had to hustle hard to get Paul at first.