the same instant the St. John’s shout of hope broke out behind him. For therein short right field their second baseman had just received the ball and had turned for the throw to the plate: Edward saw the ball leave his hand; then he flung himself head-foremost, on his chest, with arms outstretched; he felt his hands on the rubber plate, he felt the impact of the ball against his shoulder, and he heard the umpire shout,—
Before he could rise to his feet he was enveloped in a yelling swarm of St. Timothy’s boys, who pulled and hauled and hoisted him to their shoulders—a bewildered exhibit in soiled and dusty flannels and with a dirty face.
Suddenly into the mob burst Durant, fighting his way.
“Put him down!” commanded Durant, sternly, at the top of his voice. “Put him down!”
His manner was so menacing that he was obeyed, and for a moment there was quiet.