So Carter was out, but Lanton was hanging at third, crazy with eagerness to get in.

It all hung on Lanton now.  If he got across the home plate in time enough it would give the Army the lead by one run.  At this moment the score was tied—–­three to three!

“Get out there and coach Lantin, old ramrod,” begged “Durry,” and Dick was off, outside of the foul line, his eye on Dave Darrin and on every other living figure of the Navy nine.

It was Holden up, now, and, though the cadets on the grandstand looked at Carter briefly, with praise in their eyes for his two-bagger that had meant two runs, the eyes of the young men in gray swiftly roved over by the plate, to keep full track of Holden’s performance.

But Holden struck out, and Army hopes sank.  Tyrrell came in to the plate, and on him hung the last hope.  If he failed, Army fans would be near despair.

Dave Darrin was beginning to feel the hot pace a bit, for in this inning he had exerted himself more than in any preceding one.  However, that was all between Darrin and himself.  Not another player on the field guessed how glad Dave would be for the end of the game.  Yet he steeled himself, and sent in swift, elusive ones for Tyrrell to hit.

Swat!  Tyrrell landed a blow against the leather, at the last chance that he had at it.  It was a bunt, but Navy’s shortstop simply couldn’t reach it in time to pick it up without the slightest fumble.  That delay brought Lanton home and over the plate.

How the plain resounded with cheers!  For now the Army led by a single run, and Tyrrell was safe at first.

Jackson up, with Beckwith on deck.  There was hope of further scoring.

Yet no keen disappointment was felt when Jackson struck out.

In from pasture trooped the Navy men, eager to retrieve all in the ninth.

“Fit to stay in the box, old ramrod?” anxiously asked “Durry,” as the nines changed.

“Surely,” nodded Dick.

“Don’t stick it out, unless you know you can do the trick,” insisted the Army captain earnestly.

“I’m just in feather!” smiled Dick.

Greg, too, had been a bit anxious; but when the first ball over the plate stung his one unmitted hand, Holmes concluded that Prescott did not need to be helped out of the box just at that time.

Then followed something which came so fast that the spectators all but rubbed their eyes.

One after another Dick Prescott struck out three Navy batsmen.

Greg Holmes made this splendid work perfect by not letting anything pass him.

That wound up the game, for Navy had not scored in the ninth, and the rules forbade the Army nine to go again to bat to increase a score that already stood at four to three.

Instantly the Academy band broke loose.  Yet above it all dinned the cheers of the greater part of the nine thousand spectators present.