But Yedding showed that he was out for blood, for he allowed but one safe hit, and again retired Yale without a score.
Surely it was a hot game, and excitement was running high. Would Harvard be able to score the next time? That was the question everybody was asking.
Yedding came to the bat in this inning, and Merriwell struck him out with ease, while not another man got a safe hit, although one got first on the shortstop"s error.
The Yale crowd cheered like Indians when Harvard was shut out for the third time, the freshmen seeming to yell louder than all the others.
They originated a cry which was like this:
"He is doing very well! Who? Why, Merriwell!"
Merriwell was the first man up, and Yedding did his best to get square by striking the freshman out. In this he was successful, much to his satisfaction.
But no man got a hit, and the third inning ended as had the others, neither side having made a run.
The fourth opened in breathless suspense, but it was quickly over, neither side getting a man beyond second.
It did not seem possible that this thing could continue much longer, but the fifth inning brought the same result, although Yale succeeded in getting a man to third with only one out. An attempt to sacrifice him home failed, and a double play was made, retiring the side.
Harvard opened the sixth by batting a ball straight at Yale"s shortstop, who played tag with it, chasing it around his feet long enough to allow the batter to reach first. It was not a hit, but an error for short.
This seemed to break the Yale team up somewhat. The runner tried for second on the first ball pitched, and Yale"s catcher overthrew, although he had plenty of time to catch the man. The runner kept on to third and got it on a slide.
Now Harvard rejoiced. Although he had not obtained a hit, the man had reached third on two errors, and there was every prospect of scoring.
Merriwell did not seem to lose his temper or his coolness. He took plenty of time to let everybody get quieted down, and then he quickly struck out the next man. The third man, however, managed to hit the ball fairly and knocked a fly into left field. It was gathered in easily, but the man on third held the bag till the fly was caught and made a desperate dash for home.
The left fielder threw well, and the ball struck in the catcher"s mitt.
It did not stick, however, and the catcher lost the only opportunity to stop the score.
Harvard had scored at last!
The Harvard cheer rent the air, and crimson fluttered on all sides.
Frank struck out the next man, and then Yale came to bat, resolved to do or die. But they did not do much. Yedding was as good as ever, and the fielders gathered in anything that came their way.
At the end of the eighth inning the score remained one to nothing in Harvard"s favor. It looked as if Yale would receive a shut out, and that was something awful to contemplate. The "sons of Old Eli" were ready to do anything to win a score or two.
In the first half of the ninth Harvard went at it to make some more runs. One man got a hit, stole second, and went to third on an error that allowed the batter to reach first.
Sport Harris had been disappointed when Merriwell continued to remain in the box, but now he said:
"He"s rattled. Here"s where they kill him."
But Frank proved that he was not rattled. He tricked the man on third into getting off the bag and then threw him out in a way that brought a yell of delight from Yale men. That fixed it so the next batter could not sacrifice with the object of letting the man on third home. Then he got down to business, and Harvard was whitewashed for the last time.
"Oh, if Yale can score now!" muttered hundreds.
The first man up flied out to center, and the next man was thrown out at first. That seemed to settle it. The spectators were making preparations to leave. The Yale bat-tender, with his face long and doleful, was gathering up the sticks.
What"s that? The next man got a safe hit, a single that placed him on first. Then Frank Merriwell was seen carefully selecting a bat.
"Oh, if he were a heavy hitter!" groaned many voices.
Yedding was confident--much too confident. He laughed in Frank"s face.
He did not think it necessary to watch the man on first closely, and so that man found an opportunity to steal second.
Two strikes and two b.a.l.l.s had been called. Then Yedding sent in a swift one to cut the inside corner. Merriwell swung at it.
Crack! Bat and ball met fairly, and away sailed the sphere over the head of the shortstop.
"Run!"
That word was a roar. No need to tell Frank to run. In a moment he was scudding down to first, while the left fielder was going back for the ball which had pa.s.sed beyond his reach. Frank kept on for second. There was so much noise he could not hear the coachers, but he saw the fielder had not secured the ball. He made third, and the excited coacher sent him home with a furious gesture.
Every man, woman and child was standing. It seemed as if every one was shouting and waving flags, hats, or handkerchiefs. It was a moment of such thrilling, nerve-tingling excitement as is seldom experienced. If Merriwell reached home Yale won; if he failed, the score was tied, for the man in advance had scored.
The fielder had secured the ball, he drove it to the shortstop, and shortstop whirled and sent it whistling home. The catcher was ready to stop Merriwell.
"Slide!"
That word Frank heard above all the commotion. He did slide. Forward he scooted in a cloud of dust. The catcher got the ball and put it onto Frank--an instant too late!
A sudden silence.
"Safe home!" rang the voice of the umpire.
Then another roar, louder, wilder, full of unbounded joy! The Yale cheer! The band drowned by all the uproar! The sight of st.u.r.dy lads in blue, delirious with delight, hugging a dust-covered youth, lifting him to their shoulders, and bearing him away in triumph. Merriwell had won his own game, and his record was made. It was a glorious finish!
"Never saw anything better," declared Harry. "Frank, you are a wonder!"
"He is that!" declared several others. "Old Yale can"t get along without him."
THE END.