It was hot! Tom’s head felt as though it was being slowly baked in spite of his cap as, getting the signal from Sam, he swung his arms up and sped a fast ball across in the groove. Behind him the cheerful voices of his team-mates made a spattering chorus.

“Here we go Tom! You’ve got his number, old man!”

“No one walks, Tom!”

“That’s pitching ’em, Tom, old boy! That’s pitching ’em!”

“No one sees first this inning, fellows! On your toes now!”

The head of the Petersburg batting-list retired to the bench, flicking his bat disgustedly toward the pile. Just four balls had settled him. The next youth up was a clever bunter and the infield shortened a little. Tom sped them in low; one strike; one ball; two strikes; two balls——

Then the batsman was streaking for first and Bert Meyers, coming on the dead run, was scooping up the trickling ball. A quick underhand throw, a stab into the air of Buster’s “meat hand,” and two men were out. Petersburg put the next batsman on first, but went into the field a minute or two later when Tom made his second strike-out. Amesville cheered then and kept on cheering until Buster had tapped the plate with his bat and stood awaiting his fate. But neither Buster nor Bert Meyers, who followed, was able to solve the opposing pitcher. Frank Warner reached his base on a scratch hit that was too hard for second baseman to handle, but was out a minute later on an attempted steal.

Again Amesville took the field and again Tom, working with machine-like precision, mowed the enemy down in one, two, three order. For Amesville, Tommy Hughes struck out, Sidney reached first on a wild throw by second baseman, Smithie fanned, and Kenny went out to centre fielder. Calvert, the Petersburg slab artist, was in fine form to-day. When all is said, there’s nothing like a roasting hot day to show a pitcher at his best, and it was very evident that the redoubtable Calvert, a small, wiry youth with a shock of hair the colour of butcher’s paper, liked the conditions. In spite of the fact that up to the end of the third inning no one got beyond first base, the contest proved breathlessly exciting to both the supporters of the home team and to the good-sized contingent that had travelled over from the neighbouring town. It was a pitchers’ battle, with the honours about even, but one never knows in baseball when a break will come. A lucky hit, an error at a critical moment, a close decision by an umpire—any of these things are often sufficient to start a rally and, in a few short minutes, change the entire complexion of the game. When Petersburg came to bat in the first of the fourth there was tension evidenced amongst players and spectators both. Petersburg had three of her best batters coming up.

If Tom felt the tension he didn’t show it. Mr. George, seated on the bench beside Coach Talbot, voiced admiration in low tones. “I never saw a youngster who had the form that kid’s got,” he said to the coach as Tom, settling his visor over his eyes, leaned forward to get the signal from the catcher. “He’s a born pitcher, Bat; you can’t get around it!”

“Yes,” Mr. Talbot nodded. “In about three years from now he will be a wonder. Ever hear him say whether he was going to college?”

“I’ve heard him say he wanted to,” replied the detective, “but he doesn’t think he will be able to. There isn’t much money, I guess.”

“He’s got to go, Ben. I’m going to talk to him about it. I’d like to steer him to my college, if I could.”

“He could play professional ball in two or three years if he wanted to,” mused Mr. George. “I could get him a try-out any day, and it wouldn’t be long before he’d be grabbed up by one of the Big League teams.”

“Time enough for that when he’s been through college, Ben. Besides, and meaning no offence, the boy’s too smart to waste himself playing baseball for a living.”

“I don’t know, Bat. Baseball isn’t what it used to be, and ball players aren’t like what they were once. Not that I’m knocking the old-timers, either. I come pretty near being one myself. But there’s a pretty fine, self-respecting lot of men playing professional ball these days. Why, say, it’s just as respectable a profession as—as medicine or law, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. I didn’t mean that. The trouble is a ball player uses up the best years of his life getting nowhere, Ben.”

“I don’t know about that, either. As I said before, it isn’t like it used to be. Ball players are pretty smart nowadays, and by the time they’re getting by they’ve worked up a nice little business on the side or saved up a tidy bunch of money.”

“If they’re the saving kind,” answered the coach with a smile. “You know yourself, Ben, you wouldn’t deliberately advise Pollock to become a professional ball player. Now would you?”

“N-no, I guess I wouldn’t. Still, if there wasn’t anything better——”

“There is, though, for that chap. I don’t know what it is, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders and he’s naturally smart and not afraid of work. If he was my boy, I’d put him into college, give him a couple of years to look around and decide on a profession or an occupation, and then see that he buckled down and worked hard. What’s his father like?”

“Dead. He lives with an uncle out at Derry. The uncle’s a farmer and a bit tight-fisted, they tell me. Maybe Tom will get the property when the old man dies. I don’t know.”

“Well, he’s got two more years at high school. By that time—I’ll have a talk with him some day. I haven’t much money myself, Ben, but I’d scrimp a bit to see a kid like that make good and not go to waste.”

“Why, say; so’d I, Bat. I’m fond of that boy, too. You’ve no idea how plucky he is. Why, when I ran across him at the boarding-house, Bat, he’d been teaching himself to pitch with one of these ten-cent books! And he was doing it, too! Look here, let’s you and me sort of keep an eye on him, Bat. I haven’t a pile of money, either, but I’d spend a little to help Tom through college, if that was what you were thinking of.”

Coach Talbot nodded. “Something of the sort. Of course, if he showed up strong in a couple of years, he could get into a college and not have to pay anything. Take my own college, for instance. There’s a lot of old grads who are always on the lookout for promising athletes. Any fellow who looks real good to them can get through four years without its costing him a cent. It’s done right along. But, somehow, I don’t like it. It may do for some fellows, Bat, but it’s—it’s——”

“I wouldn’t let a boy of mine do it—if I had one,” declared Mr. George with emphasis. “Maybe in a couple of years, Bat, you and I will be flusher. Then Tom’s got a pretty good position with Cummings and Wright. Cummings is real fond of him; you can see that. In two years he might be able to save quite a little himself. Then, maybe, you and I, we could——”

Mr. Talbot nodded again. Then he laughed softly. “We’re a funny pair to be adopting a boy, Ben!”

“I wasn’t meaning to exactly adopt him——”

“I understand. We’ll think it over. Anyhow, at least we can keep an eye on the chap and see that he doesn’t—— Hello! here’s trouble!”

Tom had fanned the first batsman, but the second, after waiting craftily, had drawn a pass. The Petersburg coachers shouted joyfully:

“Here’s where we break it up, fellows! Here we go! Make it be good, Gus, make it be good!”

But Tom steadied down again and the best the next batter could do was to hit to shortstop and the first runner was out at second, the double failing by a scant foot. The next man up caught an out-shoot on the end of his bat and whaled it into deep centre, placing the runner on third and wisely staying at first himself. By this time the Petersburg supporters were rooting lustily and the coachers were shouting their lungs out at first and third. The latter realised that if they could unsteady the rival pitcher for a moment now they could leap into the lead. The man on first stole on the first ball, a pitchout, and Sam Craig slammed the ball back to Tom. The runner on third, however, was too canny to try for the plate, although he had taken a good lead.

With one ball to his credit, for the batsman had wisely refrained from hitting at the pitchout, knowing that Sam Craig would not be likely to throw down to second with a man on third, he allowed a strike to go by, an in-shoot that broke beautifully and slipped over the inside of the plate. Then came another ball, a drop. And then, while Tom was poised on one foot, his hands overhead, two things happened simultaneously. Mr. Talbot leaped from the bench with an involuntary exclamation of warning and the runner on third, who had been taking a good twelve-foot lead, dashed for the plate!

Sam’s shout was not necessary, nor the cries of the fielders, for Tom had already seen what was up. Hurriedly he stepped forward and sped the ball to the catcher, the batsman struck at it and missed, and the runner slid feet forward for the plate. Down swept Sam’s arm, but the runner was safe, one foot hooked into the plate and his body well out of reach. And on third the man from second danced and shouted in a cloud of dust!

Petersburg yelled and hooted. Tom, who had followed the delivery to the plate on the run, looked ruefully at Sam. Sam, frowning, walked across and placed the ball in his hand.

“Watch out for that, Tom,” he whispered. “They’ll try it again if they need a run badly. All right, let’s get this one.”

And Tom got him, sending two slow balls across shoulder-high, at each of which the batsman struck and each of which he missed.

“Now then, fellows, let’s get after them!” called Frank Warner as Amesville went to bat. But Calvert still was master, and, although Meyers hit safely and was advanced to second by the captain’s neat sacrifice bunt, Tommy Hughes and Sidney were easy outs, the former hitting straight into third baseman’s glove and the latter retiring on strikes.

Tom went through the fifth without misadventure, disposing of the Petersburg tail-enders easily. But after Amesville had been to bat again the score still stood 1 to 0 in Petersburg’s favour. Calvert had no strike-outs that inning, but he made two assists, knocking down two liners and fielding them to first in time to put out Smith and Kenny. Sam Craig brought the Amesville rooters to their feet when he smashed the ball far into left field for what might easily have been good for two bases, but which resulted only in a put-out for the fielder who, after a pretty sprint, made a brilliant one-hand catch of the long fly.

“All up for the lucky seventh!” was the slogan of the Petersburg supporters as the teams changed places. And a “lucky seventh” it proved to be, but not for Petersburg. Tom added two strike-outs to his credit and, although the opposing catcher got a two-bagger off him, the side went out without a run.

In the last half Amesville found her chance. Calvert let down for an instant, passed Kenny, and then made the mistake of giving Sam Craig a low ball outside. Sam, who swung a long bat and loved low ones, lighted on it for two bases and sent Joe Kenny to third. Then the Petersburg pitcher recovered, and Tom went out on strikes. Buster hit a slow one to shortstop, who, after making certain that the runner on third was not trying to score, threw hurriedly to first. The ball struck in front of the baseman and bounded away from him, and amidst wild acclaim Amesville scored her first run. Meyers went out, third to first, but Frank Warner again proved his dependability as a batsman by lining out a red-hot one straight through the pitcher’s box, bringing in Sam Craig and Buster. Such shouting as followed then! Mr. Cummings climbed up on the bench and waved his palm-leaf fan in one hand and his straw hat in the other and shouted himself purple in the face, while Mr. Talbot and Mr. George, their faces wreathed in smiles, gravely shook hands! The pandemonium kept up for minute after minute, while Captain Warner, dancing around on first, begged Tommy Hughes to “smash it, Tommy, smash it!” But Calvert, a little pale and serious, showed his grit then by settling down and disposing of Tommy with just four pitched balls!

But with a lead of two runs Amesville’s chances seemed dazzlingly bright, and so they remained all through the eighth, in which inning, if the Brown-and-Blue could not add to her score, neither could the visitors. And so the ninth inning began with the figures 3 to 1 and everything pointing to a victory for Amesville.