In spite of this advice, Wolfe grew restless every minute, and when the seventh inning ended, with the score three to two, Bern whispered a good-by to Duncan, told the others he would be back in a short time, and left the stand.
In the eighth inning Manhattan betrayed dangerous symptoms, for she made a run and filled the bases, with two men out. Kates then struck out the last batter.
But the score was now four to two. Jones urged his men to get after Hogan without delay, and they responded in a promising manner. In a sharp batting rally, they drove in a score, but a fancy double play cut short their chances of tying or taking the lead.
Manhattan abated none of its fierceness when the ninth opened. The first batter landed on Kates for a safe single. Following this, came a fierce drive that got away from Tucker, and two men were on bases.
A moment later Sam hit a batter on the hip, and the sacks were filled.
Marone coached jubilantly, announcing his belief that something like a dozen runs would be chalked down to Manhattan’s credit in the ninth.
It was the critical point of the game, and Kates got the rattles at last. Try as he might, he could not find the plate, and, as a result, he walked the next batter, forcing in a run.
“It’s all off,” announced Bill Toleman, to his companions in the stand. “He couldn’t find the rubber now to save his life.”
“By Jove! Kates is going to the bench!” exclaimed Ditson. “Who’ll pitch?”
“Merriwell,” said Poland. “He’s going into the box as sure as fate.”
“But he has a lame shoulder,” snickered Dagett.
“He’s let Kates lose the game,” said Toleman, “and now he’s going to show off. It’s too late for him to do anything.”
“That’s right,” nodded Ditson. “The game is over. Merriwell ought to be batted after sitting on the bench and letting those fellows have their own way.”
Mike Marone stood, hands on his hips, and laughed as Dick walked out to pitch.
“Like to limber up a little, Merriwell?” he inquired. “Give you all the time you want.”
“Thanks for your generosity,” said Dick. “I don’t believe I’ll bother to limber up.”
“Wow! wow! wow!” barked O’Mora. “He don’t have to limber up! He thinks we’re easy.”
Dick received the ball, and toed the slab in a position to pitch with his left hand. He could not use his right, but he hoped to check the enemy, just the same. The first ball delivered was so wild that it came near getting past Buckhart, who stopped it by a marvelous sidelong leap.