“The bases full and no one out!”

How many times has this cry shaken the nerves of the home rooter, as he saw his favorite players apparently in a hole they could not get out of without allowing one or more scores?

The friends of Bert Creighton and the other Kattskill Bay boys, while confident that the boys from Winton possessed the ability to help Bert win a victory, saw no loop-hole for shutting off the scores of the Cleverdale team in the fifth inning.

Remembering the two plays of the previous inning, the Cleverdale runners were hugging the bases, watching eagle-eyed for a throw from either Chot or Tom. But the Winton battery proceeded to ignore the runners apparently.

Never had Windle batted at such an array of curves, mixed with swift balls and slow balls, as Chot Duncan served up to him during the next two minutes. The best he succeeded in doing was a foul tip which counted as a strike. With two strikes and no balls, he felt that he must hit the next one, but he did not figure on the drop, and again Chot sent his man along the strike-out route with his old reliable “fooler.”

“Hit it out, Johnson!” cried Biddle. “A single will do.”

“Johnson isn’t making singles to-day,” muttered Fleet. Then he grinned in delight as Chot threw a swift in, and the Cleverdale pitcher struck and missed. Another in the same place brought a second effort from Johnson, this also unsuccessful. Then the drop again, and Johnson retired as Mr. Creighton cried:

“Batter out!”

King was facing Chot now. He was reputed to be the best and quickest man in getting to first of any of the Cleverdale players, and he had resolved to show Chot that he could not strike him out again.

Chot cast his eye around the bases now. The runners were still hugging close. Chot was tempted to let King hit it, and trust to the Creighton fielders to get under the ball, but decided not to take a chance. Then, suddenly, he resorted to a style of throwing that he had not used in a long time—the underhand method. Chot had mastered this style long since, and could throw ins and outs with equal facility, and with as much speed as he ordinarily used for his other delivery.

King was disconcerted. He had never seen balls come whizzing over the plate in just this fashion. One strike, two strikes, were called and King began to be alive to the fact that he was apt to go the way the other batters had. Then suddenly Chot swung his arm over his shoulder and the reliable drop went shooting into Tom’s mitt. King had hit at it and missed. Chot had struck out three men with the bases full.

“Oh, there are different methods of doing it,” said Fleet, as he carelessly threw his mitt down near the base and walked in with the other Creighton players.

Smeed tried to get a hit for his side in the last of the fifth, and succeeded in sending a grounder to short. He was thrown out. Pod beat out a bunt but Bert surprised his friends by striking out. Fleet lifted a long fly into center, but Burton was playing deep and had little trouble getting under it.

Cleverdale again looked dangerous in the sixth, but again Chot and Tom, with Bert’s assistance, cut off two runs when it seemed that the rival side must score.

Tom led off for Winton. Getting a ball where he wanted it after a strike and two balls had been called, he sent the sphere into deep right for three bases.

Chot struck the first ball pitched, and it went sailing between left and center, out into the tall grass, where it was recovered some minutes later by the combined efforts of Burton and King! By the time the ball was thrown into the diamond, Chot had made a complete circle of the bases, sending Tom in ahead of him.

“Gee whiz! Eleven to nothing,” said Fleet. “This game should have a poem.”

“Not if we know ourselves!” cried Pod. “Let well enough alone. Don’t bring down a hoodoo by turning loose any bad verse.”

“Speaking of women,” said Pod. “Did——”

“Who said anything about women?” Fleet demanded.

“Well, speaking of them, anyway, I know a school teacher who is so industrious that she is knitting all the time while she is teaching.”

“Get out!” cried Fleet. “How can a school teacher knit and teach at the same time?”

“This teacher is knitting her eyebrows,” said Pod, and dodged out of the way as Fleet made a dash for him. The Kattskill Bay boys laughed heartily at Pod’s joke, which caused Fleet to remark:

“If you heard as many of them as we do, they wouldn’t be funny.”

“And if you heard as many bad verses as we do,” said Pod, “you’d hate to travel in the company we travel in.”

Fleet glared at him but said nothing, and a moment later, when Jones went out on a grounder to Corker, all interest became centered on the game.

Day flied out to Burton and Lorrens went out on a grounder, Strange to Windle.

Believing the seventh might be their lucky inning, the Cleverdale boys tried their utmost to score. The cry with them grew to be not, “Can we win?” but “Can we save ourselves from a shut-out?” Captain Biddle thought they could. Chot Duncan had resolved they shouldn’t.

Strange was up for Cleverdale, and he knocked a single into right. No man had yet tried to steal a base on Tom, so Strange resolved to be the one to humiliate Bert Creighton’s catcher. He was a swift runner, and felt that with a good lead he could make it. With the first ball Chot threw, he was off for second. Burton, knowing that Strange was going to attempt a steal, struck wildly at the ball to bother Tom.

But Tom was always at his best in situations of this kind, and with apparently no effort he shot the ball down to Bert, who put it on Strange when he was ten feet from the bag, Tom having anticipated the runner and thrown that far to the right, where Bert stood just a foot or so back of the base line.

A cheer went up from the Creighton rooters. This was the sort of playing they liked best to see.

Burton knocked a little fly back of second which Pod caught easily.

Windle hit the ball hard, but it was a liner straight to Bert, and the second baseman smothered it in his glove, retiring the side.

The seventh was over and still Cleverdale had not made a score.

“Why don’t you give them just one?” cried someone, as Bert and his players came in for their turn at bat.

“Give ’em one and they’ll want a dozen,” replied Bert, smiling. “A coat of whitewash will look good on Cleverdale.”

The Creightons then proceeded to add another run to their already large list. Smeed secured a base on balls. Pod struck out, but Bert advanced his center fielder to second with a sacrifice, and Smeed came home a moment later on Fleet’s long hit between first and second. Tom flied out to King, and the side was out.

Johnson struck out as usual, Chot giving him no opportunity to hit the ball. He seemed afraid to stand up to the plate, and a batter who is timid is easy prey for the opposing pitcher.

King pounded out a two-bagger, Smeed getting the ball in center in time to hold him on the second bag.

Cotton bunted safely, King taking third, and Gregg advanced to the plate. Gregg was the Cleverdale slugger. He did not always hit the ball, but when he did it usually went somewhere. He stood in his favorite position to wait for a suitable ball, knowing that one of his long hits now would score both King and Cotton.

A moment later he was walking slowly down to first. Chot had deliberately given him his base on balls.

“I don’t like that,” he said, glaring at Chot.

“Sorry,” responded the latter and made ready to throw to Captain Biddle, who, with the bases full and no one out, was confident that he could save his side from a whitewash, at least.

He struck viciously at the first ball thrown, but missed. He tried again, but Chot was using all the speed he had, resolved that the Cleverdale team should be whitewashed until the end. Two strikes were called on Biddle. Then came one just where he wanted it—or, so it seemed to him. He struck with all his might, and succeeded in tipping the ball. Not enough to deflect it from its course however, and it landed in Tom’s mitt and Biddle was out.

Corker knocked a long fly into left, but Lorrens had no difficulty in getting under it, and the first of the eighth was over.

Winton went out in one, two, three order, in the last half of the inning, and the ninth opened with Strange at the bat. Cleverdale was resolved to have another try at scoring.

Strange succeeded in bunting safely, Tom getting the ball, but fumbling it until it was too late to throw to Fleet.

Burton waited and got his base on balls. Chot had sent over a couple of teasers and the umpire had ruled them balls, and Chot realized when too late that he had made a mistake.

Two men on bases and no one out.

Windle was up, a look of determination on his face.

Then Chot commenced to burn them over. Such dazzling speed had never been seen in the Creighton pasture before. Mr. Creighton nearly forgot that he was umpiring in his amazement at the way Chot sent the balls whizzing over the plate.

A strike was called, then Windle struck at two more; but he might as well have tried to hit a bullet from a gun. He was called out on strikes.

Johnson surprised everyone by hitting the ball, but it went straight into Pod’s hands, forcing Strange at third.

Everyone was on tip-toe with excitement as King drove the sphere into deep right for what seemed to be an extra-base hit. Burton, who was on second, raced for home with all his speed. Then Jones, who had been running back to get under the ball, saw that it was going over his head, and with a supreme effort shot into the air and caught the sphere with one hand. It was a sensational catch and received a round of cheers.

The game was over and the score stood: Creightons 12, Cleverdale 0.

The little animosities of the game were soon forgotten when it was learned that Mrs. Creighton had prepared a fine supper on the lawn back of the farm-house, and the boys hurriedly gathered up their paraphernalia and went in that direction, while the crowd began to disperse.

The supper was an enjoyable one in every sense of the word, and songs and jokes were heard on all sides. Pod was allowed to turn loose a few of his latest, and he kept the table in a roar for the better part of the time.

Finally the Cleverdale boys took their leave, after shaking hands warmly with the boys from Winton, and inviting them to the Lake George country again the following summer.

“When,” said Captain Biddle, smiling, “we’ll try and make things more interesting for you.”