"Safe" declared the umpire.

Hi Martin flashed a warning look at the catcher for his nine,
then sent a sweeping glare around the bases. Greg and Dick smiled
sweetly back.

"Play ball!" ordered Umpire Tozier.

Dan Dalzell was now at bat, tingling with anxiety, though his
grin seemed a yard wide.

"Oh, you Danny Grin! Eat the leather!" appealed a Central rooter
from the side.

Dan grinned again, his look seeming to say, "Watch me!"

Two strikes, with no called balls. Dick, dancing away from third,
felt himself on tenterhooks. Not all of his perspiration was
due to the heat of the day.

Again Dan offered. Crack! A wild, gleeful whoop went up from
some of the Central rooters, while others held their breath.
The ball went high, and right field came running in for it. As
it happened, the fielder underestimated the length of the flight.
It struck the ground to his rear and rolled. Before the outfielder
could pick it up Dan had kicked the first bag.

"Prescott! Prescott!"

Dick was in, scoring the first run, while Greg was at second,