“South-paw,” muttered Ned as he watched Ingersoll, the pitcher of the academy nine. “That’ll be my finish then,” said Hodge gloomily. “I can’t hit a left-hander. It’s like striking at the moon.” “Don’t give up before you begin,” said Ned sharply. “Oh, I’m not a dead one yet,” retorted Hodge, as he selected his bat and advanced, as the first batter, to face Ingersoll. A hush fell over the entire assembly as the motions of the lanky pitcher were keenly watched by all observers. A laugh was heard as Ingersoll twisted his long arms and body almost as if he were trying to tie it into a knot. Suddenly from the squirming arms the ball shot forth and Hodge struck wildly at it, though he did not come within six inches of the little sphere. “Strike!” shouted the umpire promptly. “That fellow is going to wear himself out before the sixth inning if he keeps that up,” said Ned to Dan as they were seated side by side on the players’ bench. “He can’t keep that up.” Dan, after his usual quiet manner, did not reply, though he was keenly observant of his rival in the box as was his friend. Another strike, then two balls, quickly followed Hodge’s first attempt, and then the batter struck savagely at the ball that followed and sent it slowly rolling toward third base. The baseman easily stopped the ball, threw it to first, and Hodge was out. “Next victim,” muttered Ned as he stepped forward to the plate. Ned, however, was more fortunate than his predecessor, for after one strike and two balls had been called he lifted the little sphere for a safe hit over second base. “Now, Gus, remember your country’s need,” said Smith, as Gus Kiggins’ turn to bat came and the young giant stepped forward. “Don’t forget that you’re to make a sacrifice hit.” If the batter heard the direction he gave it no heed, for he sent the first ball pitched far over the head of the left-fielder. Almost on a straight line the ball sped on, rolling swiftly when at last it struck the ground, while both the left-fielder and the center-fielder of the academy ran in swift pursuit. Pandemonium almost seemed to break loose among the boys of the Tait School. They rose from their seats and swung their caps, dancing up and down in their excitement as they shouted and cheered wildly. The excitement became still greater when Gus turned third base and followed Ned toward the home-plate. The ball by this time had been secured and the left-fielder had thrown it, exerting all his power, to the short-stop, who had run back to secure it.