With a man on third, Rutter’s Point considered discretion the better part of valor, and Mason pitched out three times to Pete and Pete walked to first, while the home team’s supporters jeered and shouted disparaging remarks to Mason. A minute later Pete went to second unchallenged. Tom Haley was up, and Houghton had argued that Tom could be easily disposed of. And it seemed that he could. Tom made desperate swings at the first two deliveries, and you could have heard the sighs of despair that came from the anxious watchers on the seats. Then, heeding the coachers’ voices at last, Tom got his eye on the ball and watched idly while Mason sped two wide ones past him. Then he tried again and a foul resulted, Houghton getting his hands on it at the edge of the stand but dropping it. A third ball narrowly escaped being a strike, and Gordon cried: “That’s waiting, Tom! Let him walk you; he’ll do it in a minute!” And he would have, for the next delivery was inches wide of the outer corner of the plate, but Tom reached out eagerly, got that ball on the tip of his bat and sent it arching up in a low fly that fell three feet inside the first-base foul line and just out of the reach of the three fielders who raced after it! In trotted Jack, scoring the tying run, and in sped Pete Robey, close on his heels, while Clearfield went mad with delight and the purple pennants waved on high. Pete beat the throw to the plate by inches, but Tom, trying to reach second on the throw-in, was less fortunate and fell victim to a fine heave from Houghton to Leary. Dick motioned Fudge to him. “We want another run, Fudge,” he said softly. “Mason will be up in the air now. Make him think you’re anxious to hit. Move up in the box and swing your bat; try to look nervous——” “I don’t have t-t-t-to try,” muttered Fudge. “Never mind. Make him think you’ll offer at anything, but _don’t_ swing but once. Pick out a wide one and swing at it, Fudge, but be careful not to hit it. If you work it right, he will pass you sure as shooting! Now, go ahead.” Harold Townsend, so excited that he hadn’t scored a thing since Jack’s two-bagger, looked at Dick in open admiration. “I guess that’s what they call ‘inside baseball,’ isn’t it, Dick?” “I don’t know,” was the reply. “It’s what I’d call horse-sense. I hope it works, anyhow!” With two out and the bases empty the scoring was apparently over, and the Pointers were doubtless already occupying their thoughts with the task before them of overcoming that one-run lead when they at last returned to their positions.