Gardiner's pitcher measured his man critically, then signaled the next ball. It came, just as Dick, closely watching the pitcher, expected it to come, a swift, graceful out-curve. _Bang_! At least it sounded like a gunshot. Dick Prescott struck the ball with all his might. He struck with greatest force just barely below the center of the sphere. It was a fearful crack, aimed right and full of steam and speed. "_Wow_!" Three base-runners, at the first sound had started running for all they were worth. Dick's bat flew like a projectile itself, fortunately hitting no one, and Prescott was running like Greek of old on the Olympic field. One man in! The ball had gone past the furthest limits of outfield. Before it had touched the ground Dick Prescott touched first and started for second. Gardiner right and left fields were running a race with center field. The latter was the one to get it, but his two supporters simply couldn't stand still. Prescott kicked the second bag. Almost at the same instant the second man was in. Score tied! What about that ball? It was rolling on the ground, now, many yards ahead of the flying center-field. Dick was nearing third, the man ahead of him fast nearing the home plate. Centerfield had the ball in his hands, whirling as if on springs. Third man safe home---Dick Prescott turning the third bag and into the last leg of the diamond. Center-field threw with all his might, but the distance was long. Second base had to stoop for the ball. Even at that, it got past his hands. He wheeled, bolted after the ball, got it and made a throw to the catcher. Out of the corner of his eyes, young Prescott saw the arching ball descend, a good throw and a true one. Yet, ere it landed in the catcher's hand, Dick, by the fraction of a second, had sprinted desperately across the home plate. "Runner safe home!" "Whoo-oopee! Wow! wow! wow!" rang the chorus of thousands. "Four to two!" "What about Gridley, _now_?" "What about Dick Prescott?" Then words were lost in volleys of cheers. The Gardiner fans who had risen to cheer slipped dejectedly down from the stand. And Dick Prescott? While running he had given no thought to his knee. Now, as he dashed across the plate, and heard the umpire's decision, he tried to stop, but slipped and went down. He tried to rise, but found it would be better to sit where he was. The game was over. Gridley, having made the winning runs in the last half of the ninth, the rules of the game forbade any further attempts to pile up score. One of the first of the great crowd to leap over into the field and cross the diamond was Coach Luce. He ran straight to the young pitcher's side, kneeling close by him. "You've given your knee a fearful twist, Prescott. I could see it," said Luce sympathetically. "What do I care?" Dick called back, his face beaming. "The score's safe, isn't it?"