"Strike one!" sounded the umpire's steady, low voice.

In a moment or two more it was: "Strike three. Out!"

Then a third batsman took post. Dick Prescott, his face now flushed
with pleasure, not humiliation, and his eyes flashing battle,
put the third man out for the Norths.

Yet, though the Central Grammars put two of their men on bases,
they, too, went back to grass ere a run could be scored.

The fifth inning was almost a duplicate of the fourth; no ground
gained. In the sixth, after having two men struck out, the Norths
took two base hits away from Prescott, and had men on first and
second. In an unwary moment for the Centrals the man at second
made third just ahead of the ball.

"We'll have a third run in a moment, if our boys keep their heads,"
murmured Hi Martin confidently. "That will keep us at three to
nothing."

At that instant Dick delivered a ball that the North batsman tapped,
but just hard enough to drive it for a fair catch into Prescott's
hands.

"You idiot!" glared Martin at the offender, as the Norths took
the field.

However, all predictions were still in favor of the North Grammars,