"Come on, fellows!" cried Chub. "Let's win this old game right here!" And Ferry Hill trotted out to the field for the first of the eighth. CHAPTER XXVII THE CRIMSON SWEATER DISAPPEARS "Seven to three," muttered Roy as, drawing his big leather mitten on, he stepped to the base and held his hands out toward Kirby. "That's four to make up to tie them." _Sock_ came a ball against the hollow of his mitt. "If Kirby does his part, though, and they don't get any more runs, we've got a chance." Back went the ball to the new pitcher and once more it flew across to Roy. "If I wasn't surprised when Emmy sent for me! 'There seems to have been a mistake made, Porter. I trust I have not discovered it too late for the success of the nine. If you are wanted, take a hand, and good luck to you. Come and see me after supper, please.' 'What it means--(I beg pardon, Kirb; my fault!)--I don't know; unless Horace told on himself; he was there looking kind of down in the mouth. I'm certain Harry didn't break her promise!" "All right, fellows!" shouted Chub, throwing the practice ball to the umpire and trotting to his position. "After 'em hard, now. We're all back of you, Kirb!" Cole settled his mask into place and Kirby sent three trial balls to him. Then Smith, the first of the Hammond batsmen, stepped into the box. "Hello, you!" called Chub cheerfully as Roy edged over toward him. "It's good to see you there, old chap. Get after 'em, Roy. We're not beaten yet!" "Not a bit of it!" answered Roy. "We'll have them on the run in a minute." A whole lot depended on Kirby, and everyone realized that fact. If he could pitch his best game and hold Hammond down to her present score there might be a chance of Ferry Hill's doing something in the next two innings. But Kirby had had but a few minutes of warming up work and might prove stiff. He got one strike on Smith and then sent him four balls, one after the other, seemingly unable to find the plate. Smith trotted to first. Chub called laughingly across to Kirby. "That's right, Kirb, give 'em a show." Kirby smiled and dug his toe into the ground. Rollins tapped the plate with his bat and shot a questioning look toward Smith on first. Kirby pitched wide, Cole slammed the ball down to Roy and Roy swung at the runner. But Smith was full-length in the dust with his fingers clutching a corner of the bag. Roy tossed the ball to Kirby. Smith crawled to his feet, dusted his clothes and took a new lead. "Strike one!" droned the umpire. Smith trotted back to the bag. The coach sent him off again. "Take a lead, take a lead!" he shouted through his hands. "He won't throw it! Down with his arm, now! _Look out!_" But the warning came too late. Kirby had turned suddenly and thrown swiftly, and Roy's downward swinging hand had found Smith a good six inches away from base. "Out on first," said the umpire.