Had you looked over Will Temple’s shoulder you’d have seen, very neatly set down in his score-book—a brand-new one for the occasion—the following batting orders of the rival camps:

The Wigwam—Brown, 2b.; Thursby, ss.; Meldrum, rf.; Gifford, lf.; Groom, cf.; Crossbush, 3b.; Murdock, 1b.; Craig, c.; Porter, p.

Mount Placid—Cochran, 1b.; Benson, ss.; Smith, lf.; Walters, cf.; Connell, 3b.; Phillips, 2b.; Hanford, c.; Williams, p.; Cather, rf.

At the last moment The Wigwam had thought it best to put its full strength in the field at the start, and so it was decided that Mr. Gifford should take Peterson’s place in left. In that way the line-up would contain the best batting talent. In arranging the order of batting Mr. Gifford started out on the assumption that Steve Brown was the fastest man on bases and that, once on first, he would be able to advance without aid. Consequently, Ed Thursby was to follow him, since Ed, although not a hard hitter, was a fast runner between bags. Meldrum was as good a bunter as the team possessed, and Mr. Gifford was placed fourth in the hope that he would be able to score one or more of the preceding players. Groom and Crossbush were fair hitters, while Murdock was rather weak. Sam was to follow the latter and, if possible, clean up. Porter was the weak man at bat.

Of the Mount Placid team, Cochran, Connell, Phillips, and Williams were councillors, although, as The Wigwam learned afterwards, only Cochran and Williams were players of experience.

Both teams showed nervousness in the first inning or two and the play was rather ragged. The Mount Placid fellows were at least a year older than their rivals, all being, probably, over sixteen, while the visiting boys were all under that age, with one, Ralph Murdock, only fourteen. Along the base-lines was assembled quite a good-sized audience, representing Mount Placid, Greenwood, and The Wigwam. Naturally enough, the Greenwood fellows rooted for Mount Placid, and, so far as cheering was concerned, The Wigwam was bested from the start. Mount Placid, bunched together some seventy strong behind the third base-line, chanted: “Rah, rah rah! Who are we? We are the boys of M. P. C.! Team! Team! Team!” Greenwood, nearby, gave less often her, “Greenwood! Greenwood! Greenwood! Rah, rah, rah! Rah rah, rah! Greenwood!” The Wigwam, still fewer in numbers, did its best under the leadership of Dick Barry, and its novel cheer, short and sharp, was applauded from across the diamond: “W! Rah! I! Rah! G! Rah, rah, rah! W! Rah! A! Rah! M! Rah, rah, rah! Wigwam!” In spite of the fact that there were only some thirty Wigwam supporters there, Dick Barry managed to get excellent results.

Steve Brown started the game by striking out, and Thursby and Meldrum were thrown out at first. Mount Placid fared no better at bat. Cochran flied to Mr. Gifford, Benson struck out, and Smith made the third, Crossbush to Murdock. No runs, and, so far, no errors. But the second inning told a different tale. Mr. Gifford flied out to left field and Groom fell victim to Mr. Williams’s slow ball. And then, with two gone, the Mount Placid third baseman fumbled an easy attempt of Tom Crossbush’s and that youth reached first. Murdock received an in-shoot on the elbow and took his base, briskly rubbing his arm. Then Sam, cheered hopefully by The Wigwam boys, lined one into deep centre and Crossbush reached the plate a yard ahead of the ball and scored the first tally. That gave the blue-shirted youths something to celebrate, and Dick Barry didn’t let the opportunity get by them. A minute later, however, the inning was over, George Porter fanning.

There was no scoring in the last of the second and none in either half of the third. In the latter inning Mount Placid got to Porter for two singles, but no one went beyond third. In the fourth it looked for a while as if the visitors were going to score again, for, with one down, Crossbush singled sharply to left and went to second on Murdock’s out, pitcher to first. Sam was again called on for a hit, but this time Mr. Williams fooled him badly and he struck out, and again Porter proved easy. Mount Placid filled the bases in their half, but George Porter, with one out, made Mr. Cochran hit into a double, and once more The Wigwam barked its cheer into the air.

The fifth began with the score still one to nothing, and Steve Brown tried desperately to get a start. But the rival pitcher’s skill was too much for Steve, and when, as a last resort, the latter got in the way of the ball the thing was so palpable that Mr. York laughingly shook his head and Mount Placid jeered good-naturedly. Thursby laid down a bunt in front of the plate, but he couldn’t beat the throw to first. Meldrum made the third out, short to first. The Mount Placid shortstop, Benson, opened the inning for the home team with a slow bunt down third-base line that neither Crossbush nor Porter could field, and an instant later he stole second, being aided by a poor pitch of Porter’s that Sam couldn’t pick from between his feet in time to throw.

Mount Placid, and Greenwood too, was cheering lustily now, and the coachers were adding their turmoil to the total of sound. With two strikes and one ball on Smith, Porter let down and handed out a base. With a man on first and second, Walters flied out to Mr. Gifford, who held the runners. Then Mr. Connell, one of the councillors, and third baseman, found Porter for a long fly into right, which George Meldrum badly misjudged, and two runs trickled across. Mr. Connell took third on the throw-in. Mr. Phillips scored him a minute later when he landed a Texas Leaguer behind first base. There was still but one out. Sam walked down and whispered to Porter. He had nothing to say to the pitcher, for George was pitching coolly and well, but he seemed to be planning all sorts of strategies, and The Wigwam cheered and the rivals indulged in the usual humourous remarks held sacred to such occasions: “That’s right, talk it over!” “Let’s all hear it!” “I’ll bet it’s a good story!” “They’re changing the signals. It’s all up now!” “Play ball, Wigwam! Tell him about it afterwards!”

Mr. York cautioned Sam that he was taking too much time, and Sam, nodding untroubledly, donned his mask again and stooped behind Hanford, the Mount Placid catcher. Hanford liked a low ball and Sam saw that he didn’t get one. A strike, breast-high, went over. Then an out-shoot that might have been a strike or ball, and was judged by the umpire as the latter. Then another ball, much too high. Then a waister, that the batter struck at and missed, was followed by a foul. Sam, pulling his mask down again, laid one finger against the back of his big mitt. Porter rubbed the back of his head reflectively and, had anyone been regarding Steve Brown attentively, he would have seen that player turn slightly toward second base. Then Porter stepped forward and the ball whizzed to the plate. It was one of George’s fast, straight ones, and, while it actually crossed the centre of the plate lower than Sam wanted it to, it did the business. Hanford swung too late and missed it by inches. It thumped into Sam’s glove, was plucked forth instantly and sent, fast and true, to second. Steve was already awaiting it. Almost with one motion he caught the throw, knee-high, and swept the ball to the left. Mr. Phillips, sliding feet-first, was out by a yard! And some thirty blue-shirted youths cheered and capered!

But Mount Placid had a two-run lead now and The Wigwam tried hard to cut it down in the first half of the sixth. Mr. Gifford landed on a straight ball and hit safely for two bases into far left. Then Joe Groom fouled out to first baseman. Crossbush fanned. With two out the inning seemed over, but when Murdock knocked a slow grounder across to third baseman that youth, pausing to hold the runner at second, threw wide to first and Murdock was safe. When, however, a double steal was called for a few moments later, Hanford proved too much for the success of the venture. Although Sam swung at the ball, the Mount Placid catcher side-stepped quickly and plugged to third. The decision was a close one and Sam looked sorrowfully at Mr. York when the latter waved Mr. Gifford out. Mount Placid, too, failed to get a runner across in that inning and the seventh started with the score still 3 to 1.

Sam was up, having been left at bat in the sixth, and Sam wanted desperately to start something! But Mr. Williams had a slow ball that he didn’t at all like. Twice Sam tried for it and each time hit too soon. The first result was a foul that third baseman narrowly missed and the second a mighty swipe through empty air and a loud and disgusted grunt from Sam. After that, with two strikes and one ball against him, Sam let two more go by and things looked brighter. The next delivery was palpably bad and Sam, dropping his bat, trotted to first amidst the acclaim of The Wigwam boys, wishing that he had Steve’s ability to purloin bases!

As it turned out, however, Sam was not called on to steal. Mr. Williams at once set about trying to catch him off his base. He apparently resented that youth’s luck, and, as Sam thought, even showed some temper in the vindictive way in which he slammed the ball across to Mr. Cochran. Sam each time took as much of a lead as he dared, more than willing that the pitcher should throw across. Five times Mr. Williams attempted to surprise Sam and five times he failed, but always by so narrow a margin that he was encouraged to try it again. Then the pitcher disgustedly turned his attention to Porter, who was impatiently waiting at the plate, and Sam, watching for a signal, poised himself on his toes.

The first ball pitched was too good to refuse and Porter leaned against it. Off it travelled, straight between first and second, and Sam, racing for the next base, had to leap aside to avoid it. It was too fast for handling by the infielders, although second baseman made a gallant attempt, and Sam reached third well ahead of the throw, while George Porter, a much surprised youth, perched himself on first. A minute later he was sent to second and stole handily, Hanford being unwilling to risk a throw-down for fear that Sam would score. The Wigwam supporters were now making enough noise for twice their number, and even Mr. Haskins was seen shouting himself red in the face. Steve, who had sacrificed a strike when Porter had gone to second, now tried hard to find something he could hit. But Mr. Williams, after one attempt to catch Porter at second, settled down again and disposed of Steve with four deliveries, and there was one gone. Ed Thursby tried bravely to bring in a run, but only succeeded in making the next out, second to first. Meldrum was next in order, but Mr. Gifford, trusting to the psychological effect of introducing a pinch-hitter, called him back and sent Pete Simpson in to bat for him. Simpson was no more of a hitter than Meldrum, but that was something the opponents couldn’t know. Nor did they know the new player’s batting weakness as they now knew Meldrum’s. Pete was a small youth, rather stocky, and only fourteen years of age, and he didn’t look especially formidable as he walked to the plate and, with a somewhat nervous smile which he strove to make appear confident, swung his bat invitingly. Hanford experimented with a low ball which Pete disdained and which went for a strike. Then came a slow one and Mr. York called “Ball!” Pete knew what he wanted, but Hanford hadn’t yet discovered it. As a matter of fact, what Pete was wishing for was a plain, every-day waister in the groove, which was about the only sort of a ball he could hit! It didn’t look as though he was to get one, though, for after teasing him with another slow one which was just too wide of the plate to be a strike, Mr. Williams curved one over the outer corner and the umpire announced “Strike two!”

“It only takes one, Pete!” called Tom Crossbush from the bench. “Make him pitch to you!”

Then Mr. Williams slipped a cog and what was meant for a straight, slow ball went past well over Steve’s shoulder and a howl of delight went up from the bench.

“He’s got to put it over now!” called Mr. Gifford. “Just tap it, Pete!”

Hanford glanced a bit nervously toward where Sam was taking a ten-foot lead off third. Suddenly the Mount Placid catcher became alarmed. A hit meant two runs and a tied score! Beckoning to Mr. Williams, he advanced halfway toward the box and the two consulted. This was the visitors’ chance to jibe and they took advantage of it.

“You’ve got them worried, Pete!” “Up in the air, fellows! Here’s where we tie it up!” “Play ball! Play ball!”

The coachers added their contributions, while Sam, dancing about at third, seriously interfered with the conversation between Mr. Williams and Hanford by threatening to steal home every instant. Finally the Mount Placid battery returned to their places and Hanford knelt and gave his signal, or pretended to. What followed was a pitch-out, a quick peg to the pitcher by Hanford and an equally speedy throw to third, and Sam, two yards from base, was caught flat-footed for the third out!