The batter, with every nerve tense, braced himself and swung heavily upon what he believed was to be another swift ball. So completely was he deceived by Dan’s delivery that he struck before the ball reached him――a ball that rose slowly into the air, then almost seemed to stop and hesitate as it neared the plate, and then with a sudden drop shot in toward the batter. “Three strikes! Striker out!” called the umpire sharply. The cheers now were almost as deafening from the supporters of the Tait School nine as they were from their opponents. Three men still were on the bases, but two batters had struck out in quick succession. Everything now depended upon the next player to face Dan. Even a single hit would mean two runs. If Dan could only strike out the fellow his work would stand almost alone in the history of the school. Every boy was now watching the young pitcher. Was he nervous? The wild antics of the men on the bases redoubled. The runner on second took an additional lead and acted as if still more wires had been strung for him. But Dan was not to be diverted. He was deeply aroused, for he understood better than anyone the test that was upon him. He resumed his position in the box, once more looked at the runners, then ignoring their antics sent the ball in. A report like the crack of a falling branch followed and a wild shout went up as the ball was batted far back into the crowd along the left-field line. The applause instantly died away when it was seen that it was a foul. Ned slapped his hands together as he stooped to face Dan again. A “ball,” “two balls,” were then called and the wild roar from the assembly was of the mingled appeals of the rival factions. “A hit!” “Strike him out!” “Don’t let him get his base!” were among the frantic appeals of the excited spectators. Dan was unusually deliberate now. He looked long at the batter as if once more he was endeavoring to ascertain just what his weakness might be. Ned gave the signal for one of Dan’s swiftest low inshoots. The young pitcher nodded his head as a token that he understood. Drawing back his arm he delivered the ball as Ned had called for it. “Three balls!” shouted the umpire promptly. People were standing on the benches now, apparently the excitement having passed all control. Parasols and banners were waving, as well as hats and arms. A scene of almost indescribable confusion was everywhere manifest. “Two strikes!” called the umpire. The noise of the assembly instantly subsided, as every spectator now watched Dan. “This ball will tell the story,” was the word heard in low tones on every side of the field.