CHAPTER XVII
STEALING HOME
With Burkett, Barrett and Joe at the bat for the Giants in their halfof the ninth inning, it looked as though the nine might have a chanceto score.
But Miles had turned those same batters back earlier in the game, andhe nerved himself to repeat.
"Murderer, are you?" he sneered, as the burly Burkett came to the bat,and referring to a nickname gained because of the many balls "killed.""Well, see me send you to the electric chair."
"Aw, pitch with your arm instead of your mouth," retorted Burkett."You're due to blow up anyway. You're only a toy balloon, and I'm goingto stick a pin in you."
But Miles had the last laugh, for he fanned Burkett with threesuccessive strikes, and the latter went sheepishly back to the bench.
"That pin must have lost its point," Miles called after him. "I knewyou were bluffing all the time."
Larry came up to the plate, swinging three bats. He threw away two ofthem and faced the pitcher.
"Why don't you throw that one away too?" queried Miles. "You might aswell, for all the good it's going to do you."
"Your name is Miles, ain't it?" asked Larry. "Well, that's the way I'mgoing to hit the ball--miles."
He lunged savagely at the first ball that came over the plate andlashed it into the crowded grandstand for what would have been a surehomer, if it had not been a few inches on the wrong side of the foulline.
Larry kicked at the decision, but to no avail, and he came backdisappointedly to the plate. But the mighty clout had sobered Milessomewhat, and the next two were out of Larry's reach and went as balls.Larry fouled off the next for strike two, and let the next go by forthe third ball.
"Good eye, Larry," called Joe approvingly. "He's in the hole now andwill have to put the next one over. Soak it on the seam."
Larry caught the next one fairly, and it started on a journey betweenright and center. Platz, the Pirate rightfielder, took one look at itand turned and ran in the direction the ball was going. At the back ofthe park was a low fence that separated the field from the bleachers.Just as the ball was passing over this, Platz reached out his hand andgrabbed it. The force of the ball and the rate at which he was runningcarried him head over heels to the other side, but when he rose, theball was in his hand.
It was a magnificent catch, and well deserved the thunderous applausethat rose from the stand, applause in which even the Giant supportersjoined, though it seemed to sound the death knell of their hopes.
"Hard luck, old man, to be robbed that way," said Joe consolingly, asLarry came back, sore and muttering to himself.
"To crack out two homers in one turn at bat and not even get a hit,"mourned Larry. "Sure, if I was starvin' and it started to rain soup,I'd be out in it with only a fork to catch it with."
Joe received a generous hand as he came to the bat, due not only to hisgeneral popularity but to the wonderful game he had so far pitched.
"Oh, you home-run king!" shouted an enthusiastic fan. "Show them thatyou deserve the name. Win your own game."
"Watch Miles pass him," yelled another.
Whether Miles was deliberately trying to pass him, Joe could not tell.In any event, the first two balls pitched were wide of the plate, andthe crowd began to jeer.
The third was by no means a good one, but still it was within reach,and Joe reached out and hit it between third and short to leftfield.With sharp fielding it would have gone for only a clean single, but theleftfielder fumbled it for a moment, and Joe, noting this, kept righton to second, which he reached a fraction of a second before the ball.
That extra base was worth a great deal at that stage, for now a singlewould probably bring Joe in for the first and perhaps the winning runof the game.
But would that single materialize? There were already two men out, andthe chances were always against the batter.
Joe noticed that Miles was getting nervous. Wheeler was at the bat, andMiles was so anxious to strike him out that he was more deliberate thanusual in winding up. Joe took a long lead off the bag, and watched thepitcher with the eye of a hawk.
The first ball whizzed over the plate for a strike. Joe noted thatWheeler hit full six inches under the ball. Evidently his batting eyewas off. There was little to be hoped for from that quarter.
When Miles started his long wind-up, Joe darted like a flash for third.The startled catcher dropped the ball, and Joe came into the bagstanding up.
"Easy to steal on you fellows," Joe joshed Miles, as he danced aroundthe bag.
"That's as far as you'll get," snapped Miles. "I've got this fellow'snumber."
And Joe was inclined to think he was right, for when the next ball wentover, Wheeler missed it "by a mile." One more strike, and the inningwould be over.
Jamieson, the Pirate catcher, threw the ball back to Miles. Before ithad fairly left his hand Joe was legging it to the plate. There was ayell from the spectators, and Miles, aghast at Joe's audacity, threwhurriedly to Jamieson.
Twenty feet from the plate, Joe launched himself into the air andslid into the rubber in a cloud of dust. The ball had come high toJamieson, and he had to leap for it. He came down with it on Joe like athunderbolt, and the two rolled over and over.
"Safe!" cried the umpire.