"A game's never lost until it's over," said Coach Steele. "You're playing against a pitcher of unusual ability. But don't let that discourage you for a moment." The end of the eighth inning found the score four to nothing in favor of the Stars. "We'll simply have to do something now," growled Tom Clifton. "Just listen to Nat Wingate howling. If we don't, maybe he and Hackett won't go strutting around town proud as peacocks." "Roycroft, if you'd been in this game there might be a different story to tell," grumbled "Crackers"--"eh, Earl?" "I'm not saying anything," answered the former football guard. "But I am," put in Owen Lawrence. "These chaps seem to be weak on the stick work." "You never faced Tony Tippen," sniffed Benny Wilkins. "Well, if I couldn't do any more than sideswipe the air I'd be sorry. Who's up?" "Charlie Blake." "Then we might as well go home." Charlie, fully determined to do his share toward staving off a disastrous defeat, stilled a nervous flutter at his heart. "Better to make a try than stand still and hear the umpire yell, 'Three strikes and out!'" he reflected. He aimed at the second ball, and perhaps no one on the lot was more surprised than he to hear a sharp crack and to see the horse-hide whirling off into space. Spurred on by a furious din from the purple and white, he sped down the first base line long before the ball was returned to the infield. The players who had looked so gloomy a few moments before brightened up amazingly. After all, Tony Tippen could be hit. It was a pleasant surprise to many. "Oh, ginger! If we'd only started this thing in the earlier innings!" groaned Tom Clifton, as he picked up a bat. "If Blake could do it, so can I." With all his judgment, he aimed at the first ball which cut the plate. It was the hardest swing of which Tom Clifton was capable. The ball, struck squarely, flew to the left of second base. Nat Wingate, leaping in the air with upraised hand, stopped its onward progress. The sphere rolled to the ground. With a swift dive, Nat recovered it, stepped on the base and shot the ball to first. It was the nearest the high school team came to scoring that day, Bob Somers, the next batter, going out on a foul. The Kingswood Stars and their friends were warm and happy. Tony Tippen became the hero of the hour. He accepted his honors modestly. But Nat Wingate and John Hackett, who came in for their share of lionization, did not take the victory so quietly. "Now let somebody call us 'Pie-eaters'!" jeered Nat. "I say, Clifton, do we need some dieting? Won't you join us at a doughnut party to-night?" "Get out!" retorted Tom, angrily. "One more inning, and we'd have had you going." "Oh, yes; you'd have had us going around the bases one after another." Over by the bench Mr. Barry was punctuating some remarks with emphatic motions of his knotty cane. "Extraordinary--extraordinary! Not even one of them got as far as second base!"