Then Ribot struck under one of Patterson's jumps and sent the ball far up in the air. Rob snatched off his mask and watched the returning sphere, relieved to see it descending on McPherson's side of second. Ribot was out, and O'Brien brought the inning to a close by giving Durand a chance at another pop fly. The Seaton hitters had no better luck. Hayes got his base on balls, but Patterson forced him at second, and was himself put out on the play, while McPherson flied out. Here was little encouragement for those who looked for more Seaton runs! Furness started the eighth with a drive past second, which by bounding over Sudbury's shoulder enabled the runner to make two bases. Rounds, the last man of the Hillbury list, was counted an easy victim, but instead of striking out as he was expected to do, he hit the ball over Durand's head. Poole got it back in season to cut off any attempt at crossing the plate, but the awful fact remained that with only two runs needed to tie the score, Hillbury had men on first and third, with no one out and the heavy hitters coming on. A double now would bring in two men. Even Wally acknowledged to himself that he did not see how they were going to get out of that hole, while the dubious on the Seaton benches were sadly thinking that the game was lost. The fatal eighth was here! A ball! two balls! Then Michael's bat cracked and the ball shot toward Hayes, struck well, and bounded into his hands. He gave but a glance at third--where Furness was lingering, hoping to draw a hasty throw to the plate, and so get Michael safely to first--then threw to McPherson, who had covered second. Rounds was thus forced out. Meantime Furness had made a late start for home, trusting to McPherson's slowness and probable confusion. But McPherson, who was neither slow nor confused, sent the ball directly to the plate, where Owen received it safely. Furness, while still ten feet away, stopped and wheeled about; but Owen ran him down, then turned sharply, steadied himself, and drove the ball with all his strength to McPherson. Michael had passed first on the plays and was sliding into second; the ball in McPherson's hands touched him before he reached the base. In a fraction of a minute it was all over. The umpire was signalling to Michael that he was out; Poole and Rorbach had started in from their positions; Owen was unbuckling his protector. Still Patterson stood and stared, unable to believe that his rescue was complete. And then, like the explosion set off by an electric spark, the audience waked to the situation. The whole Seaton company rose _en masse_, waving arms and hats and banners, and sent forth a formless, exultant roar; while the recreant cheer-leaders turned their backs on their chorus and danced frantic jigs before the benches.