hand swiftly. He knew it was a good ball, but in spite of that he almost feared lest he should hear the fatal "ping" as the bat hit it or listen to the umpire's "ball one." Tom felt that he could not toss another curve. His arm was numb and tingled away up to his shoulder. He saw a black wall looming up before his eyes and there was a ringing in his ears.
But above the tumult he heard a voice shouting:
"Three strikes! Batter's out!"
Oh, what yelling there was! How the handkerchiefs and banners fluttered! How the girls' shrill voices mingled with the deep cheering of the boys! What a stamping of feet on the grandstand!
Then out from the tumult came booming that heart-stirring song of Randall: "We have come and we have conquered!"
Tom staggered as he pulled off his glove and walked toward the bench. His mouth was parched and dry.
"Oh, good old man!" yelled Kindlings, rushing up and embracing him. "Oh, fine! Oh, great! Oh, oh, oh! Wow!"
"Up with him, fellows!" called Sid Henderson. "On our shoulders!"
"No, no!" protested Tom.
But he might as well have talked to the wind. They lifted him up and marched with him around
