The eleventh inning saw no difference in the prevailing score, which after both clubs had had a turn at bat remained the same, eight to eight.

“Why, anything is possible with those two boys going as strong as they are right now,” the Belleville rooter was saying.  “That pitcher of yours, Scranton, is no slouch, believe me.  He isn’t hardly in the same class as Kinsey, but your fellows are supporting him in great shape, and saving many a run by fine field work.  But of course we’ll win in the end; we’re bound to.  One of our boys will put in the big wallop and circle the bases on a trot, and then it’ll all be over but the shouting.  It’s no disgrace to be whipped by a Belleville team, Scranton.”

“Spell able first!” taunted the visiting fan, still filled with implicit faith in his school representatives.

It was now the beginning of the twelfth.  Hugh had again talked to his fellows, and once more implored them to get busy with their bats.

“Don’t ever get the notion in your heads that you can’t hit Kinsey’s shoots and drops!” he told them, as Julius Hobson selected his bat, being the first man up.  We’ve just got to work a man around the circuit this inning.”

“If we don’t we never will next time, because it’s the unlucky thirteenth,” remarked another, who, like many baseball players, seemed to have a touch of superstition in his make-up.

“The thirteenth is as good as any other,” Hugh told him, reprovingly; “and if we reach it I hope you’ll not lie down on that account.  Julius, you’re due for a wallop, remember.”

“Sure thing, Hugh, watch my smoke!” chuckled the other, as he stepped blithely out and tapped his bat several times on the plate after a fashion he had, while Kinsey was eyeing him reflectively, as though trying to remember what the long and short suit of the Hobson boy was.

Then he sent in a screamer which Julius as promptly sent far out in the heavens, and started running like mad for first.  They could see the long-legged Conway out in left field sprinting like a huge grasshopper in hopes of getting under the soaring ball in time to set himself for the catch.  As if by a preconcerted signal everybody in the grandstand and the bleachers stood up, the better to see what happened, because it was a most critical point of the game.

Julius was half-way down to second and still going strong when Conway was seen to fairly leap up into the air, then take a headlong fall; after which he hastily scrambled to his feet, holding up his hand to signify that he had a ball, which he then threw in to the pitcher, amidst a roar of cheers.  Even Scranton fans joined in the applause, being able to appreciate a fine bit of work, although it gave them the keenest sort of disappointment to realize that after all Julius had had all his run to second for nothing.

But at least his mighty blow would serve to encourage some of his team-mates, who latterly had not been doing much with Kinsey’s weird offerings.