because they were seldom a silent team. McCall
hesitated a moment over his bats. Then, as he
picked up the lightest one, I saw his jaw set, and
I knew he intended to bunt. He was lame, yet he
meant to beat out an infield hit. He went up
scowling.

Vane had an old head, and he had a varied
assortment of balls. For Mac he used an under
hand curve, rising at the plate and curving in to
the left-hander. Mac stepped back and let it go.

``That's the place, Bo,'' cried the Buffalo
infielders. ``Keep 'em close on the Crab.'' Eager and
fierce as McCall was, he let pitch after pitch go
by till he had three balls and two strikes. Still
the heady Vane sent up another pitch similar to
the others. Mac stepped forward in the box,
dropped his bat on the ball, and leaped down the
line toward first base. Vane came rushing in for
the bunt, got it and threw. But as the speeding
ball neared the baseman, Mac stretched out into
the air and shot for the bag. By a fraction of a
second he beat the ball. It was one of his demon-
slides. He knew that the chances favored his being
crippled; we all knew that some day Mac
would slide recklessly once too often. But that,
too, is all in the game and in the spirit of a great
player.