From that time to the end the game was exciting, both sides playing fast ball. In the beginning of the seventh Morgan struck out again. Packard flied out to Gamp. Mason got first on balls, but Starbright put a liner into Frank Merriwell’s hands.
Of course Merriwell’s team did its best, but Morgan was in fine form, and he permitted not a hit, Dick Merriwell being thrown out at first by Mason, Ready fanning, and Carson hitting to second.
The eighth opened with Mulloy at bat once more. He smashed a hot one through Ready, who made his second error in the game. Gallup advanced the Irish youth a bag on a sacrifice, Merriwell throwing the long-legged youth out at first.
Another sacrifice by Jones brought Mulloy up to third; but Skelding proved unable to drive in another run, his long fly being taken by Gamp.
Hodge frowned when he found himself up again with no one ahead of him on the bags. He led off with a hit. Browning tried to sacrifice, but put up an infield fly, forcing Bart to get back to first. The ball was captured by Mason.
As Gamp came to bat, Bart took a desperate chance, and again stole second.
“Now for a clean hit!” sighed Jack Ready.
Gamp smashed the ball, sending it far into the field, but Jones got under it. Hodge took a chance and sprinted for third. Jones made a handsome throw, and Bart was out by four feet, which ended the Merries’ chance for tieing the score in that inning.
Morgan’s team had not given up hope of making more runs, and they came to bat with considerable ginger in the first of the ninth.
Dunnerwurst pranced out with his stick, and again invited the fielders to “mofe pack nearer.” Knowing that Hans was liable to strike at almost anything, Dick started with a high ball.
The Dutch lad hit it, and the ball went out between first and second.
“Didn’t you toldt me so!” whooped Hans, as he scooted for first.
It seemed like a safe hit, but Carson was playing short, and the ball came to him on a beautiful bound. He picked it up cleanly and threw without a moment of delay to first.
“Out!” cried the umpire, as the ball spanked into Browning’s mitt, a moment before Hans reached the bag.
“Roppery! roppery!” yelled the excited Dutch lad. “Dot vos a goot pase-hit, und he hat no pusiness to throw me oudt alretty!”
Dick Merriwell laughed. Dade Morgan tried to secure a pass to first, but found he could not do so, being compelled to hit. He drove the ball hard at Harry, who fancied he had it cold, but a bad bound caused Rattleton to fumble, which let Dade down to first by a second.
“Ah-ha!” cried Barney Mulloy. “Now we’re in th’ game! It’s too bad to do it, but it can’t be hilped. Crack it out, Packard, me bhoy!”
Dick began on Oliver with the jump ball, and Morgan’s second-baseman fanned twice at the first two. Then the young pitcher wasted two balls, after which he again used the jump ball, and Packard struck out.
“I’m sorry for you, Dade!” cried Jack Ready. “You’re anchored there.”
Thus far Mason had made two hits during the game, one of them being a two-bagger. Dick regarded Hock as dangerous, and yet he had considerable confidence in his backing. An in shoot deceived Hock, who batted the ball straight at Merriwell.
Frank gathered it up easily, tossing it over to Rattleton in time to catch Morgan on a force, which retired the final man of the Mysteries.
“Hold them down, Morgan,” said Packard, “and the game is ours.”
Morgan was determined to do everything in his power, and he succeeded in striking out Swiftwing, which was a good start.
Frank walked out with his bat. He knew the case was desperate, and he did not wish to lose the game. Yet Morgan had pitched splendidly.
Dade knew Frank had a way of “cutting ice” at critical times, and he did his best to fool Merry. By accident more than otherwise, Dade finally put a fine swift ball right over the plate. Merry met it fairly, and the ball went out on a line.
A shout arose, and Frank flew to first.
“Go on!” shrieked a coacher.
He did not wait to see where the ball was, but kept on to second. The uproar was great, but Frank saw Ready by third motioning for him to come on, and he did not let up. As he came near third Ready motioned for him to stop, but not to slide.
It was a clean three-bagger. But Merriwell had not scored, and Morgan’s team was still one run ahead.
Rattleton was the striker, and he had not made a hit for the day. Morgan resolved that he should not. Harry pretended to be anxious to hit, but he really longed to get first on balls. Dade drove him into a hole, however, by getting two strikes called on him.
Then Mulloy returned the ball to Morgan on a slow throw, and Frank Merriwell scooted for home instantly. It was a desperate thing to do and brought every witness up standing.
Morgan shook with excitement. The moment he caught the ball he threw it, and his throw was bad. Merry slid, while Mulloy fumbled the ball just long enough to let the run in.
The score was tied, and again the Yale cheer came from the group of students about Inza and Elsie.
Dick ran out and grasped Frank’s hand, his face glowing.
“Oh, that was fine!” he cried. “No one but you would have dared try it!”
“Something had to be done,” smiled Frank.
Crowfoot grunted when they approached the bench.
“Heap slick!” he said.
The old Indian seemed to enjoy a game of baseball thoroughly.
Rattleton, compelled to strike, hit the next ball, but sent it straight into the hands of Gallup.
“I think it’s a case of an extra inning,” said Merry.
Dick walked out to strike. Morgan put one over, and the boy lined it out for a single.
Then it was Ready’s turn, and Jack promptly bunted toward third, beating the ball to first. Dick had reached second, and, aroused by Frank’s example, the lad soon stole third.
Ready remained on first. When Morgan pitched the next time Jack loafed down from first, purposely permitting himself to be cornered between the bases. Then Ready played back and forth, getting up as much excitement as possible.
In the midst of this excitement Dick Merriwell dashed for home. Packard had the ball, and he threw home to stop the run. The boy, however, was running like a streak, and he shot forward in a long, clean slide.
The ball reached Mulloy a moment too late, and Dick was safe at the plate, having stolen home with the winning run.
Then there was an uproar, for the Yale men came pouring upon the field, Inza and Elsie with them, while Old Joe walked out and put his arms round the lad who had won his own game in the ninth.
“You heap much like Steady Hand!” exclaimed the redskin. “Um two make heap hot stuff! Whoop!”
Inza burned up and grasped both of Dick’s hands.
“Splendid!” she laughed. “You are a Merriwell!”
Elsie impulsively threw her arms round Dick, and kissed him. Then she started back, her face crimson; but it could be no more crimson than was that of the boy, who looked from Inza to Elsie, unable to speak for a moment.
At last he said:
“Thank you! I am sure I could do better next time if I knew you were watching.”
“King Richard,” cried Inza, “I decorate you with the badge of honor—the Yale blue! Some day, when you go to Yale, you will wear it, I hope. If so, I know you will defend it as bravely and nobly as your brother has defended the blue, and you will be an honor to Old Eli.”
THE END.
No. 76 of the Merriwell Series, entitled “Dick Merriwell at Fardale,” by Burt L. Standish, is a rattling good story with some exciting games, and will delight every boy who loves good sport.