legs. Wells sped on to second base and then on to third; Morton, who was coaching there, rushed out, and, embracing him, fairly held him upon the base. St. John’s were whooping and dancing; St. Timothy’s were smitten into silence.
Morton was next at bat, and after him came the other good batters for St. John’s; the outlook was desperate. Wells stole cautiously down along the third-base line. Bell watched him anxiously, Jim Payne behind the bat thumped his big mitt nervously. Two balls were called, then a strike.
Then Morton swung at the ball; Wells saw it go in a high swift line towards right field, put down his head and ran for the plate.
But just off first base Keating leaped and reached, and that swiftly-driven liner struck and stuck fast in his glove; he turned and hurled the ball across the diamond to Stearns, a beautiful low throw; and Stearns caught it and touched third base. Then there was a burst of shouting from St. Timothy’s and a most jubilant convulsion; the voices of St. John’s