The first part of the program was carried out all right. By some phenomenal playing Randall managed to get the lead by one run. They would have had another but for a miscalculation on the part of Ed Kerr, who was caught napping between third and home, where he was run down and put out. "Now, fellows, we have them on the hip!" exclaimed Captain Woodhouse as he called his players together for a little talk before the final struggle was made. "If we can hold them down this inning we have them. Langridge, it's up to you!" "I know it. But don't worry, I'll do it." It sounded well, and there was a determined look in the pitcher's face, but his eyes were unnaturally bright. His pitching had been ragged during the last three innings and the sudden decline of the abilities of the Boxer players had done as much as anything to give Randall her chance. "Oh, I hope Fred strikes three out, one right after the other!" exclaimed Miss Tyler as she shifted nervously in her seat. "He must be under a dreadful strain." "Probably he is," said Tom. "But if he takes a brace now he'll be all right." "He's been taking too many bracers--that's what's the matter with him," said a voice back of Tom, and he knew it was one of the former graduates speaking. Tom looked at the girl beside him. Either she had not heard or she took no notice of the remark. It was a tense moment when Langridge sent in the first ball. It was called a strike and the batsman looked surprised. The next was a ball, but two more strikes were called without the player getting a chance to swing at the horsehide. Langridge smiled at the cheers which greeted him. Then he did what few other pitchers could have done under the circumstances. He struck out the next two men, though one did manage to hit a high foul, which Kerr missed. Langridge had saved the game by holding the other team hitless. Such a cheer as went up then when it was seen that Randall had won! The stamping of feet on the stands sounded like thunder. Back of Tom and Miss Tyler two old men began yelling like Indians, hugging each other and whirling about. They were the two "old grads" of '73. They were waving their hats in the air and yelling "Randall! Randall! Randall!" until their faces were the color of raw beef. "Wow!" cried the taller of the two. "This does my heart good! I'm forty years young again. Wow! Whoop-la!" Suddenly he drew back his hand and his silk hat went sailing over the edge of the grandstand to the grass of the outfield. It was caught by some Randall players and quickly kicked out of shape. "Why, that was a new hat!" exclaimed the man's companion. "I know it, but there's more where that came from. I can buy a new hat every day, but I can't see my old college win such a game as this. Wow! Whoop!"