From indifference
we passed to determination, and from that
to sheer passionate purpose.
Luck appeared to be turning in the sixth inning.
With one out, Lake hit a beauty to right. Doran
beat an infield grounder and reached first. Hathaway
struck out.
With Browning up and me next, the situation
looked rather precarious for the Canadians.
``Say, Deerfoot,'' whispered Merritt, ``dump
one down the third-base line. He's playin' deep.
It's a pipe. Then the bases will be full an' Reddy'll
clean up.''
In a stage like that Browning was a man
absolutely to depend upon. He placed a slow bunt
in the grass toward third and sprinted for first.
The third baseman fielded the ball, but, being
confused, did not know where to throw it.
``Stick it in your basket,'' yelled Merritt, in a
delight that showed how hard he was pulling for
the gate money, and his beaming smile as he
turned to me was inspiring. ``Now, Reddy, it's
up to you! I'm not worrying about what's happened
so far. I know, with you at bat in a pinch,
it's all off!''
Merritt's compliment was pleasing, but it did
not augment my purpose, for that already had
reached the highest mark. Love of hitting, if no
other thing, gave me the thrilling fire to arise to
the opportunity. Selecting my light bat, I went
up and faced the rustic twirler and softly said
things to him.
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