Everything did not go as well as that, though, for one of the fielders missed an easy fly, thereby being indirectly responsible for letting in a run, making Kenwell nine. But that was all they got that inning--Ned pitching some wonderful ball, and retiring two men in succession without letting them even foul.
“Well, at that rate, we won’t beat ’em,” said Bob, gloomily, as his side came in to bat. “We’ve got four more innings to play, and if we get two runs each inning that will make eight for us, or a total of eleven. They’ve got nine now, and one run in each of the four left will make them thirteen----”
“I’d like to be unlucky that way,” said Ned. “Well, we’ll hope for the best.”
It did look a little more hopeful when, instead of two, Boxwood Hall got three runs that inning, making their tally six, as against nine.
“We’ve got a chance!” exclaimed Frank, and he seemed to smile at Jerry and his chums. But he did not offer them a friendly word.
There was much excitement now. Both teams were “playing their heads off,” and the rooters, the cheerers and the coherents on either side were sending out song after song, and yell after yell. If Boxwood Hall could win the game it meant that she would have an even chance for the local championship, for a third game with Kenwell would have to be played.
It was in the ninth inning that Boxwood Hall tied the score. For by dint of wonderful playing on the part of the whole team, and by a thrilling exhibition of pitching on the part of Ned, Kenwell had been allowed only two more runs, making their score eleven, and now, in their half of the ninth, Jerry and his chums had tied it.
“If we can hold ’em down the remainder of this inning, it will mean another chance,” cried Bob. “We’ll have to play ten innings.”
And a ten inning game it proved to be. For not a Kenwell lad got farther than second base.
Up to the plate in the tenth inning came Bob. He was not a sure hitter, but he got his base on balls, and the crowd started gibing the academy pitcher. But he tightened up and struck out the next man. Then came Jerry.
“Another three bagger!” begged the Boxwood lads. Jerry smiled confidently and let the first ball go by.
The next was a ball, and the next--well, they talk about it yet at Boxwood Hall. For Jerry with all his might and main smote the horsehide spheroid squarely on the “nose” and then he ran. And Bob spun around the bases too.