Miss Morton’s girl friend—Miss Hazel Dunning—was taken aboard and then, with Bill sitting on the floor in front, and resting his feet on the mud-guard step, for the machine was only a runabout, the trip to Westfield was begun. Back on the school diamond there was an anxious throng of students and players. The news of Bill’s kidnapping was known all over, and while there was despair in the ranks of the Westfield Freshmen and their supporters, there was ill-concealed joy among the Tuckerton nine and their adherents. “Those fellows know where Bill is,” declared Cap. “But we don’t dare accuse them,” agreed Pete. “And we’ll lose the game,” went on Armitage dubiously. Bill never forgot his trip with Miss Morton. She was a daring driver, for a girl, and once or twice took chances that made even the nerve-hardened pitcher wince. But with a merry laugh she sped on, after cutting in ahead of a load of hay, on a narrow bridge. Once there was a hail from a speed-watching constable but the girl kept on. “There’s oil on my number, and I never expect to come this way again,” she declared recklessly. “If only we don’t get a blow-out!” murmured Miss Dunning. “Don’t you dare suggest such a thing, Hazel!” cried Miss Morton. She turned on more speed. It lacked five minutes to two, and Bill knew the game would be called on the dot. They were two miles away, and could hardly get there on time, but the pitcher consoled himself with the reflection that at least he could take part after the first inning. “Are we going to make it?” asked Miss Dunning. “We’ve _got_ to!” declared Miss Morton, as she swung around in front of a farm wagon, thereby causing the grizzled driver symptoms of heart failure. Bill could hear the shouts on the diamond now. He was in a fever of excitement, and stood up to catch a first glimpse of the field. Miss Morton, with her lips set firmly around her pretty mouth grasped the steering wheel more rigidly and drove on. Toward the diamond she turned. There was another cheer from the crowd, but Bill could not see what was going on, and feared the game had started. There came a break in the throng and he had a glimpse of the field. What he saw reassured him. “I’m just in time!” he gasped. “They’re only practicing!” He leaped out as the girl brought the car to a sudden stop with both brakes grinding and screeching. “See you later! A thousand thanks—never could have done it but for you, Miss Morton!” burst out Bill as he ran over the grass. “I’ll never forget it.” “Me either,” murmured the girl. “I never drove so fast before in all my life, but I wasn’t going to tell him so,” she confided to her chum, as they left the car and walked toward the grand stand. CHAPTER XXVII A SCRIMMAGE “Play ball!” called the umpire. “Wait! Wait!” begged Bill breathlessly, as he ran forward. “I’m in time! I can play. Where’s Armitage? I’ve been locked up—couldn’t get here before! Can’t I play?”