Then two hits in succession looked
good for another run. White, the next batter,
sent a single over second base. Burt scooped the
ball on the first bounce and let drive for the plate.
It was another extraordinary throw. Whether
ball or runner reached home base first was most
difficult to decide. The umpire made his sweeping
wave of hand and the breathless crowd caught
his decision.
``Out!''
In action and sound the circle of bleachers
resembled a long curved beach with a mounting
breaker thundering turbulently high.
``Rob--b--ber--r!'' bawled the outraged fans,
betraying their marvelous inconsistency.
Old Well-Well breathed hard. Again the
wrestling of his body signified an inward strife. I
began to feel sure that the man was in a mingled
torment of joy and pain, that he fought the maddening
desire to yell because he knew he had not
the strength to stand it. Surely, in all the years
of his long following of baseball he had never had
the incentive to express himself in his peculiar
way that rioted him now. Surely, before the game
ended he would split the winds with his wonderful
yell.
Duveen's only base on balls, with the help of
a bunt, a steal, and a scratch hit, resulted in a run
for Philadelphia, again tying the score. How the
fans raged at Fuller for failing to field the lucky
scratch.
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