But he couldn't keep his promise. In the sixth, with one down, King beat out an infield hit, reaching the initial sack safely by an eyelash. He stole second on the catcher for whom he had been discarded, to the disgust of Frazer. The crowd seemed to forget that Jones was deaf and dumb, for it entreated him to smash one out, and Cap'n Wiley, from his place in a box, howled louder than any ten others combined. Jones drove a long fly into left, but the fielder was there, and King was held at second. Hyland followed. Jordan, a bit unsteady, bored him in the ribs. Then Keeper, another Wolf discard, came up and singled to right field. Covering ground like a hundred yards' sprinter, King registered from second on that hit, tying the score up. The crowd went wild. The Blue Stockings and Mysterious Jones had the fans with them after that. Constantly that great gathering rooted for another run--just one more. Hyland perished on third when Spider Grant popped weakly. If possible, the Wolves were fiercer than ever. In the first of the eighth they got Jones into a hole again through another hit and errors which peopled the corners, with not a man down. Then Jones won a roaring ovation from the standing multitude by striking out three men in succession. The game was settled in the last of the ninth, and again Jack Keeper figured in the play. He had reached second, with one out, when Grant hit into the diamond. The ball took an amazingly high bound. The shortstop went for it, at the same time seeing Keeper scudding for third, and realizing that it would be impossible to get him at that sack. The moment he got the ball, the shortstop whipped it to first, catching Grant by a foot. There was a shout of warning. Keeper had not stopped at third. Over the sack at full speed he had flashed, and on toward home. The first baseman lined the sphere to the catcher, who had leaped into position. Keeper hit the dirt, twisting his body away from the catcher, who got the ball and jabbed at him--a fraction of a second too late. Keeper had accomplished a feat that is the desire of every base runner's heart. He had scored from second on an infield out. And that performance gave the Blue Stockings the game. While the crowd was still shouting its rejoicing, Cap'n Wiley found Frazer shaking hands with Lefty. "I demand an apology!" croaked Wiley, barely able to speak. "I apologize," said Frazer. "Your dummy _can_ pitch! But a team with one real pitcher is scarcely equipped to cut much figure in the race. Who'll you use to-morrow, Locke?" "I am thinking of trying out another one of our uncertainties," answered the southpaw, with an enigmatical smile. CHAPTER XXXVII THE RETURN OF LEFTY