That deciding game proved to be a fierce one, so far as the desperate playing on both sides went, though there was no animosity displayed on either team.  All the noise made by the visiting contingents was done in a good-natured spirit of friendly rivalry.  And the Belleville rooters acted impartially, cheering first one side and then the other, as good plays happened to come along.

Big Ed Patterson may have been as good as ever, but Hugh and his mates seemed to have solved his speedy shoots that came hissing over the plate like cannon balls.  At least they did not strike out as often as during that other game.  “Familiarity sometimes breeds contempt” with regard to a baseball phenomenon in the way of a pitcher, as well as in other walks of life; and when Hugh found Patterson for a drive in the sixth frame “K.K.” took courage and did likewise.  Then came Julius Hobson, never having forgiven himself for striking out when the score was tied, and all Scranton had begged him to “tap one out past second, Julius; you know how to work it, old boy; you’re a dandy, Julius; now win your game right here!”

Julius had his revenge, for what did the boy do but knock a “hummer” clear out in far center, that it seemed the madly running Farmer would never get his hands on; and by the time the ball again entered the diamond three tallies had resulted, Julius having fairly flown the rounds, to throw himself down panting, and as happy as they ever make a baseball player.

Three to one it stood now, and those figures looked pretty big to both sides, for the pitchers were doing gilt-edged work and heavy scoring seemed utterly out of the question.  Allandale was game to the backbone, and they started a rally of their own when next at the bat.  Tyree, however, nipped the same in the bud by getting himself out of two nasty holes when it looked as though the other team must surely push men over the plate.

So the game went on, and Tyree gave no sign of falling down, standing the strain wonderfully well.  Hugh felt the joyous thrill of coming victory.  Many of the wildly cheering Scranton rooters boasted that they could already see Allandale handing over the pennant they had so easily won the previous summer, and which must float from the flag-pole in front of the Scranton high school another season.

The finish was highly exciting.  Allandale managed actually to tie the score in their half of the ninth, but Scranton still had an inning in which to do something.

Thad Stevens led the batting list in the ninth; and some other heavy artillery followed close on his heels.  Thad got first on a neat little hit.  “Just” Smith advanced him a base with a sacrifice bunt.  Then Horatio Juggins, who was seldom ever known to fail when it was up to him to do something, met one of those speedy shoots of Patterson on the end of his bat, and perched on second, while the winning tally came in.

That closed the game, since Allandale had already had their turn at bat in the ninth.  Juggins was the hero of the occasion, and that glorious hit of his would long place him on a pedestal in the estimation of the Scranton High scholars.  Indeed, all sorts of dates would be reckoned back to “that time bully old Jug nearly knocked the cover off the ball, and handed us the championship on a silver plate.”