“I hope so, but it’s going to be a hard row to hoe.” Bill and his brothers and friends made strenuous efforts in the little while that remained to get the glasses in time, but there was a delay, the lenses were not ready, and when the day of the final game with Sandrim arrived Mersfeld was in the box. Bill sat on the bench, bitterness in his heart, his fingers fairly aching to get hold of the ball. But he knew that his eyes were practically useless. It was a hard game, and Westfield won it only by the hardest kind of work, and the narrow margin of one run. It was due more to the support Mersfeld got than to his pitching that he pulled the contest out of the fire, and at one time, when Sandrim had three men on bases, and none out it looked like a walk-over for them. But Cap, who was behind the bat, and Pete, at short, were towers of strength, and once more the Smith boys, even though the trio was broken, demonstrated their worth. “Now, if we can take Tuckerton’s scalp we’ll be all right,” remarked the coach to the captain, as they strolled off the diamond after the game. “Yes, but we need Bill. Oh, if his eyes would only get right again!” “Yes, or if he can only get his glasses in time.” It was three days later before the oculist had the special lenses, and Bill tried them hopefully. At first they seemed to be all right, but after he had pitched a few balls Cap called to him: “Get ’em over a little better, Bill. That last one was quite a ways out.” “What’s the matter? Why it went right over the plate!” Pete who was behind Cap, watching his brother’s curves started, and the oldest Smith lad shook his head. Then Bill knew that the glasses were not the same. “I guess it’s all up,” he said despondently. “I’m out of it.” “No!” cried Cap. “We’ll help you!” “What can you do?” Bill wanted to know. “There’s no use having this oculist try it again.” “No, but we’ll find Professor Clatter and Tithonus Somnus and get him to make a right pair of glasses. That’s our last chance!” “And a mighty slim one, too!” murmured Bill, “with the final game only a few days off!” CHAPTER XXX BILL’S FALL When the oculist learned that the glasses he had made for Bill were practically useless, he wanted to try again, and, as there could be no harm in it, and as some good might result, the pitcher consented. But he and his brothers at once began the task of trying to locate Professor Clatter and his friend the astronomer. And a task it was, for they had nothing by which to go. The Smith boys knew the towns at which the medicine man usually stopped in his travels, and telegrams were sent to the police of each one, asking them to have Mr. Clatter at once get into communication with his former friends. But the answers that came back stated that the professor had not recently been in the town addressed or else had just left.