Was this inning to be a repetition of the last one? everybody sat up and seemed to be holding their breath in suspense. Everything depended on what Frank Allen could do, when a hit might mean the game. Frank tried to calm his nerves as he stepped into the batter’s position and gave a reassuring glance toward the grandstand, where he knew full well a pretty girl was waving her little flag, and praying in her heart that he would win his own game with the single hit that was needed at this critical point. Coddling was winding up preparatory to throwing, when Frank received a signal from Captain Seymour at second that told him to wait. He knew what that meant, and that the fleetfooted Columbia man was about to get enough of a lead to steal third. With Clay behind the bat, that was indeed a risky thing to attempt; but no one was apparently expecting such a move, and in that it stood a chance for succeeding. CHAPTER XXIV WINNING AN UP-HILL GAME Just at that moment there was such a dreadful clamor all over the field that hearing any note of warning was utterly out of the question. The Columbia cheer captain had started in again with his corps, and what they did to rend the atmosphere with their racket was wonderful. Coddling knew from the hasty gesture of the catcher that something was going on; but he had wound up for a throw, and could not hold back without a balk. The best he could do was to send it in direct to Clay’s hands, in order to give the other a fair chance to throw to third, so as to catch the purloiner of sacks. Of course, Frank made a wild sweep at the ball. That was a part of the game, to help disconcert the catcher. Clay stopped the ball successfully, but it came at such an angle that he was not in exact position to hurl the sphere to third. A second counts for considerable at times in baseball. Seymour slid like a Western avalanche. His extended fingers touched the base just as Bardwell grabbed the spinning ball, and dropped to touch him. The umpire extended both hands. That meant, of course, the runner was safe, and a shriek went up from that immense crowd. Now Frank faced Coddling again. Only a nice little base hit was needed to bring the runner home. Would the Columbia pitcher be equal to the call, or must trusty old Ben Allison be delegated to the task? Frank struck! The “smack” electrified every heart in that great throng! Far away out over the center field soared the ball, and several thousand eyes followed its flight. Every player knew that the thing had been done, although there was Tony Banghardt chasing wildly to get out far enough to hold the ball. “He’ll get it! Not this time, Columbia! Tony’s going to hold that balloon!” howled a half-crazy Bellport backer, as he stretched his neck to watch. “You’ve got another guess coming, old fellow. What will the man on third be doing all that time eh?” jeered a Columbia student.