"Safe!" declared the umpire, and this meant that a run had been added to the score for Randall, making the tally 6 to 5 in their favor. Tom was pale when he arose. "Hurt?" asked Kindlings anxiously. "No," was the answer, but Tom had to bite his lips to keep back a groan of pain. He had jarred his sore arm badly. Though Randall tried desperately to better the score, it was not to be. Their only hope now lay in keeping their opponents from making a run, and, if they did, they would have the game and the championship. Tom felt as if he would collapse, and his first ball, instead of being a puzzling drop as he intended, went straight over the plate distressingly slow, so that Ted Puder, captain of the Fairview team, hit it mightily. Up and up it went, a black speck against the blue sky, while the youths and maidens of the institute were yelling encouragingly to the runner, who had started for first. "Oh, if he only gets it! If he only can get it!" murmured Kindlings as he watched Phil Clinton race after the ball. It was a long, high fly, and Phil had to sprint well toward the back field to even get under it. He had turned and was racing with all his might. Would he judge it properly? Could he hold it after he got it? He had turned again, and with his eye on the ball was running backward now. He stumbled over a stone and seemed about to fall. There was a groan from the Randallites, but Phil recovered himself. The ball was almost over his head when he saw that he had not gone far enough back. It was too late to take another step, but Phil did the next best thing. He leaped up, and, with his right hand extended as far as it would stretch, he caught the ball. It was a mighty fine play and the yells and applause that followed testified to it. "Runner's out!" decided the umpire. Tom breathed easier. His heart had been in his throat when he saw what had happened to the first ball he delivered. But Phil had made good. "What a magnificent catch!" exclaimed Dr. Churchill as he adjusted his glasses, that had been knocked off in the excitement. "Yes," admitted another member of the faculty who sat near him. "And how Clinton can run! I'd like to see him on the gridiron." "Perhaps you will," went on Dr. Churchill. "The boys will soon organize the eleven." Tom's nerve came back to him. Now he didn't mind the pain in his arm. There was one man out and Tom's team was a run ahead. If he could only strike out two more men the championship would be safe. The next batter was easy, for he was a poor hitter, and Tom soon sent him to the bench. The following player was one of the best stick-wielders Fairview had. "If I can only get him," thought the pitcher. Warily Tom delivered to him an inshoot. It was missed cleanly, but a look in the batter's eye warned the pitcher that another such curve would not fool him. Tom sent in a puzzling drop and the batter struck over it. "Two strikes!" called the umpire, amid almost breathless silence.