``I'll bet he's dead. . . . Poor Reddy!
And I want him to bust his face!''
Clammer was carried off the field into the dressing
room and a physician was summoned out of
the audience.
``Cap., what'd it--do to him?'' asked Delaney.
``Aw, spoiled his pretty mug, that's all,''
replied Healy, scornfully. ``Mebee he'll listen to
me now.''
Delaney's change was characteristic of the man.
``Well, if it didn't kill him I'm blamed glad he got
it. . . . Cap, we can trim 'em yet. Reddie Ray'll
play the whole outfield. Give Reddie a chance to
run! Tell the boy to cut loose. And all of you git
in the game. Win or lose, I won't forget it. I've
a hunch. Once in a while I can tell what's comin'
off. Some queer game this! And we're goin' to
win. Gilbat lost the game; Clammer throwed it
away again, and now Reddie Ray's due to win
it. . . . I'm all in, but I wouldn't miss the finish
to save my life.''
Delaney's deep presaging sense of baseball
events was never put to a greater test. And the
seven Stars, with the score tied, exhibited the
temper and timber of a championship team in the
last ditch. It was so splendid that almost
instantly it caught the antagonistic bleachers.
Wherever the tired Scott found renewed
strength and speed was a mystery. But he struck
out the hard-hitting Providence catcher and that
made the third out.
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