It was Holden up, now, and, though the cadets on the grandstand
looked at Carter briefly, with praise in their eyes for his two-bagger
that had meant two runs, the eyes of the young men in gray swiftly
roved over by the plate, to keep full track of Holden's performance.
But Holden struck out, and Army hopes sank. Tyrrell came in to
the plate, and on him hung the last hope. If he failed, Army
fans would be near despair.
Dave Darrin was beginning to feel the hot pace a bit, for in this
inning he had exerted himself more than in any preceding one.
However, that was all between Darrin and himself. Not another
player on the field guessed how glad Dave would be for the end
of the game. Yet he steeled himself, and sent in swift, elusive
ones for Tyrrell to hit.
Swat! Tyrrell landed a blow against the leather, at the last
chance that he had at it. It was a bunt, but Navy's shortstop
simply couldn't reach it in time to pick it up without the slightest
fumble. That delay brought Lanton home and over the plate.
How the plain resounded with cheers! For now the Army led by
a single run, and Tyrrell was safe at first.
Jackson up, with Beckwith on deck. There was hope of further
scoring.
Yet no keen disappointment was felt when Jackson struck out.
In from pasture trooped the Navy men, eager to retrieve all in
the ninth.
"Fit to stay in the box, old ramrod?" anxiously asked "Durry,"
as the nines changed.
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