Hi subsided, feeling unhappy.  It hurt him to hear any one praise a fellow like Prescott.

“I wonder if they could beat us, if we had another try?” pondered Hi.  “But what’s the use of talking?  Prescott would never think of giving us another chance.  He’s too thankful to have lugged the score away from us before.”

In the eighth inning Teall brought in one more run for the Souths, who now led.

“We’ve got to work mighty hard and carefully,” grunted Tom Reade.

“Yes,” assented Dick briefly.

“We’re beaten, anyway, I guess,” sighed Hazelton.

Dick Prescott wheeled upon him almost wrathfully.

“We’re never beaten, Harry—–­remember that.  We don’t propose to be beaten, and we can’t be.  We’re going to bat now to pile up a few more runs.  The championship is ours, fellows—–­don’t let that fact escape you.”

“I wish I had Dick’s confidence,” sighed Harry, turning to Reade.

“It isn’t confidence; it’s nerve,” Tom retorted.  “If we all show nerve like Dick’s, then nothing but the hardest sort of luck can take this game away from us.”

Greg went first to bat, securing the first bag.  Dick followed, with a two-bagger that brought frantic cheers from the on-looking Central Grammar boys.

“There are our two runs—–­the ones we need,” cheered Darrin to himself, as he snatched up his bat.  “Now if I’m any good on earth, I’ll bring Greg in and perhaps Dick, too.”

Though Dave was excited, he kept the fact to himself, facing Ted Teall with steely composure.

Two strikes and three balls were called.  The two base-runners, full of confidence in Darry, were edging off daringly.

“If I dared,” throbbed Dave inwardly, “I’d refuse and walk to first on a called ball.  But Tozier might call a strike on me—–­most likely would.  Darry, you idiot, you’ve got to hit the next delivery, even if it goes by you ten feet from the line.”

Poising himself on tip-toe, Dave awaited the coming of the ball.  Wells, with a wicked grin, signaled for a ball that he felt sure would catch Dave napping.  Earlier in the game it might have done so, but Ted’s right “wing” was now drooping.  Hi did his best, but Dave reached and clubbed the leather.  In raced Greg, while Dick had a loafing time on his way to third.  Dave reached first in plenty of time.

Two men went out, leaving the nines tied.  Dick fumed now at third.

“I wish some one else than Henderson were going to bat,” groaned Prescott inwardly.

However, Spoff had the honor of his school desperately at heart.  He did his best, watching with cool judgment and backed by an iron determination to make his mark.  The third strike he hit.  It was enough to bring Prescott in.  Dick seemed to travel with the speed of a racing car, reaching the home plate just ahead of the ball.

The side went out right after that.

“What did I tell you?” breathed Dick jubilantly.  “We now stand five to four.”