And now it needed but one score for Yale to tie Harvard.

The man who followed Griswold dashed all their hopes by hitting a weak one to short and forcing Danny out at second.

Harvard cheered their men as they came in from the field.

“We must make some scores this time, boys,” said the Harvard captain.  “A margin of one will never do, with those fellows hitting anything and everything.”

“That’s exactly what they are doing,” said Peck.  “They are getting hits off balls they have no business to strike at.”

“Oh, you are having your troubles,” grinned a friend.

“Any one is bound to have when batters are picking them off the clouds or out of the dirt.  It doesn’t make much difference where they are.”

“This man Merriwell can’t hold us down as he has done,” asserted Dickson, Harvard’s first baseman.

“I don’t know; he is pretty cagey,” admitted Nort Gibson.

“I believe he is the best pitcher we’ll strike this season,” said another.

“Here, here, you fellows!” broke in the captain.  “You are getting down-hearted, and that won’t do.  We’ve got this game and we are going to hold it; but we want to go in to clinch it right here.”

They didn’t do much clinching, for although the first man up hit the ball, he got to first on an error by the third baseman, who fumbled in trying to pick it up.

Blossom was the third baseman, and he was confused by his awkwardness, expecting to get a call down.

“Steady, Blos, old boy!” said Frank, gently.  “You are all right.  The best of us do those things occasionally.  It is nothing at all.”

These words relieved Blossom’s feelings and made him vow that he would not let another ball play chase around his feet.

Frank struck the next man out, and held the runner on first while he was doing it.  The third man sent an easy pop-fly to Blossom, who got hold of it and clung to it for dear life.

Then the runner got second on a passed ball, but he advanced no farther, for the following batter rolled a weak one down to Frank, who gathered it in and threw the man out at first.

In three innings not a safe hit had been made off Merriwell, and he had struck out five men.  No wonder his admirers cheered him wildly as he went to the bench.

Yale started in to make some scores.  The very first man up got a hit and stole second.  The next man went to the bat with the determination to slug the ball, but Old Put signaled for a sacrifice, as the man was a good bunt hitter.

The sacrifice was tried, and it worked, for the man on second got third, although the batter was thrown out at first.

“Now we need a hit!” cried Put.  “It takes one to tie and two to win.  A hit ties the game.”

Rattleton offered to bet Harris two to one that Yale would win, but Sport declined the offer.

“It’s our game fast enough,” he said.  “You are welcome to what you have won off me.  I am satisfied.”