Clearfield went to bat in the sixth with the grim determination to add another brace of runs to her score and place the game safely away. Dick realized that Tom was weakening, and that before long the visitors would find him for some real hits, and before that occurred he wanted Clearfield to have a sufficient lead to place her out of danger. Gordon had his instructions to reach first at any cost. Then Way, who was a clever bunter, was to sacrifice him to second. Either Pete or Lanny was to supply the hit to score Gordon. But plans don’t always carry through. Dick’s didn’t on this occasion. Gordon hit squarely into Mason’s hands, and the pitcher tossed the ball nonchalantly to first for the out. Way bunted down the first-base line, and managed to beat out the throw. Pete flied to center field, and Way was held on first. With two down the inning should have been as good as over, but Fate took a hand and prolonged it until the bases were filled, and Dick, watching intently from the bench, dared to hope that Fudge might for once do the impossible. Mason had passed Lanny on purpose, forcing Way to second. Then Danny Shores had come through with a mild wallop down third-base line. Caspar had only to touch the base to retire the side, but his wits must have been wool-gathering, for, after gathering in the ball on the bound five feet away from the bag, he paid no attention to Way, dashing past him hardly out of arm’s length, but hurled the ball across to first. Perhaps Loring Townsend was too surprised to realize what was required of him. At all events, the ball dropped out of his glove, and Mr. Cochran, who had already motioned Danny out, had to reverse his decision.
And so the stage was set when Fudge seized his favorite bat and manfully stalked to the plate, resolved to do or die. Fudge was right in the midst of a baseball romance at that time, and only the night before, writing with his foolscap propped up on his knees in bed, he had described how his hero, despised and ridiculed by his school-mates, had gone to the bat in the last of the ninth and, even while the crowds turned disappointedly away from the field, had out-guessed the marvelous pitcher of the rival school and with one mighty stroke of his faithful bat had turned defeat into victory by driving out a home-run and scoring the men on bases. Fudge recalled that as he gripped his bat and faced Mason, trying hard to appear nonchalant and undismayed. He wondered whether things ever happened in real life as they did in stories. Somehow that brilliant deed of his hero seemed horribly improbable to-day. Fudge determined to tone it down a little that evening. A two-bagger would answer the purpose just as well, and would certainly sound more plausible.