But Hiram justified his faith in his own impressions by hitting with all his might the first ball pitched and thereby securing one base. Ben Burton, who followed him, also took one base, but this was through the error of Captain Ayres, who muffed a ball thrown to him by Jamie Kennedy. “The Lily” came next to the bat. He had previously made a small wager with Ben Burton that he would make a safe hit, and, in order to defeat Burton and at the same time benefit the club, he kept perfectly cool, waiting for his opportunity, refusing to strike at any of “Morse’s coaxers,” as the boys styled the Calumets’ pitcher’s work. When he got a ball waist-high over the plate, he hit it with sufficient power to fell an ox. The sphere traveled on a right line as though it were shot out of a cannon’s mouth, and gave “The Lily” two bases, at the same time sending Porter and Burton over the home plate and giving the Catalpas a lead of two runs.
A broad smile adorned the countenance of “The Lily,” and, with cap in hand, he stood ready to fly to third base as soon as the ball was hit. But his ardent desires were not to be gratified; the next three men went out in “one-two-three” order, Larry Boyne on a fly to Glenn Otto, Sam Morrison on a grounder to Handy, and Neddie Ellis on strikes. Third base was the nearest Van Orman came to the home plate, much to his grief; and, as he adjusted his gloves for the next turn behind the bat, he muttered, “Well, I made that ball whistle, anyhow!” Buttoning his hand protectors, with a series of wrenches, he jerked out, “The next one—that Bill hits—will never be found.”
Glenn Otto was the first man at the base for the Calumets in the fourth inning; and he secured his base by Neddie Ellis’s muff of an easy ball, and Jamie Kennedy reached first base on called balls. Both of these men, however, were left waiting, as the three players who succeeded them at the bat failed to place the ball out of the reach of the Catalpas. Charlie Webb went out on a fly to Larry Boyne, and McWilliams hit an easy fly to Charlie King; then Darius Ayres was thrown out at first base by Larry Boyne. The inning ended without adding a run to the score of the home nine, but they kept at their work with the steadiness and coolness of men who had a high reputation as players and the consciousness of great strength to support them under adversity.
Elation reigned among the friends of the Catalpa nine. In the high box from which the fair delegation from Catalpa surveyed the field, Miss Alice expressed her complete satisfaction with the condition of affairs, although Miss Ida pretended to entertain feelings of distrust. “Why,” she said, “at the end of the fourth inning, yesterday, the Catalpas were three to the Calumets’ one—just leading them two, as they are today. Do you suppose that the Catalpas will keep this up all through the game?”
“You are as much of a doubting Thomas as Ben Burton is, Ida,” answered Alice. “According to Mr. Boyne, Ben is croaking all the while. If the wish were father to the thought, he could not be more skeptical, it seems to me. Isn’t he perfectly horrid?”
But words could not be wasted now. The Catalpas went to the bat again, and every eye was riveted on the tall form of Charlie King, who, with his club on his shoulder, sauntered in leisurely and confident fashion to the square. He lifted the ball too high, however, and it was captured by Tom Shoff in the center field. Hart Stirling was deceived by a few sharp inward curves from the pitcher of the Calumets and retired to his seat without hitting a ball. John Brubaker hit the ball, but was thrown out from Otto to Ayres.
The Calumets now came in with a look of determination on their faces. “Steady, lads, steady!” said Captain Darius. “Wait for good balls; and, above all things, keep steady.”
Sam Morse, who was first at the bat, strictly obeyed orders and waited for what he considered a good ball. He struck an easy one to Ben Burton, but Ben muffed it, and Morse reached first base before the ball did. A dark cloud passed over the face of Captain Hiram as he anxiously stood at first base, and something like a cloud darkened Alice Howell’s fair cheek, far up above the brightly-lighted field, now illuminated by the afternoon sun.
A deep sigh went around among the Catalpa contingent in the open seats, as Stirling, having received a hot ball from Rob Peabody, failed to pick it up with his accustomed skill, and had the mortification of seeing the agile base runner get to the first bag in safety. It was clearly evident now that the Catalpas were a little nervous. “We have them rattled,” whispered the Calumets among themselves, as they sat expectantly on the players’ bench. Even Charlie King, who never lost his equipoise, appeared to have left some of his skill behind him, for he did not twirl the ball with that bewildering dexterity that had been, all along, the envy and the terror of the Calumets.
There was a woebegone expression on the faces of the Catalpa players—save one, and that was Ben Burton, who wore a settled smile of derision. He seemed to be congratulating himself on the possible coming true of his prophecies. Any misplay on the part of the Catalpas was the signal for what Hart Stirling termed “one of Ben Burton’s contemptible laughs.”
Shoff again faced the pitching of Charlie King and the two players exchanged a grin, a half-defiant recognition of their friendly antagonism. Thomas repeated his hit of the first inning, sending the ball to the left field
