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Hancock, H. Irving (Harrie Irving), 1868-1922

"Dick Prescotts's Fourth Year at West Point Ready to Drop the Gray for Shoulder Straps"


It was little Hutchins now again at the bat. His last time there
he had been struck out without trouble.
"But, it never does to be too positive that a fellow is a duffer,"
mused Prescott grimly, as he gripped the leather.
Just when little Hutchins seemed on the point of going to pieces
he misjudged one of Dick's puts so completely that he struck it,
by accident, a fearful crack. A cloud of dust marked the limits
of the diamond, while the air was filled with yells and howls.
When the dust cleared and the howls had subsided it was found
that Dalzell had loped in across the home plate, Darrin had come
along more swiftly and was in, while Hutchins touched the second
base an instant after the ball had nestled in Greg Holmes's Army
mitt.
It mattered little that Earl, who came next to bat, struck out.
The Navy had pulled in two runs---the only runs scored so far!
In the other half the Army nine secured nothing.
In the fifth neither team scored. In the sixth the Navy scored
one more run. In the sixth Lanton, of the Army, got home with
a single run.
Thus, at the beginning of the seventh, the score stood at three
to one with the grin on the Naval face.
During the seventh inning nothing was scored. Now, the sailor
boys came to bat for the first half of the eighth, with a din
of Navy yells on the air. West Point's men came back with a sturdy
assortment of good old Military Academy yells, but the life was
gone out.


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