It is certain that the Polo Grounds was a bad place for any one troubled
with a weak heart during that ninth inning of the Giant-Pittsburgh game.
That the boys from the Smoky City were "out for blood" was evident from
the moment that Elton, the first man up, faced the pitcher.
"Elton swings at the first ball offered and sends a screaming liner to
left," proclaimed the radio voice. "It caromed off the left field wall
and was skilfully handled by Miller, who by a quick return was able to
hold the runner to two bags."
"Pretty good beginning," murmured Herb, shifting a little uneasily in
his seat.
"Oh, that's nothing," Joe reassured him. "One swallow doesn't make a
summer and one hit doesn't win a ball game."
"Maginn sends a grasser between second and third," continued the voice.
"Elton scored easily and Maginn reached second on a close decision."
"That saves Pittsburgh from a shut-out anyway," muttered Jimmy. "But I
guess that'll be about all."
In this, however, he was mistaken.
"Wilson drives the ball on a line over second," went on the voice.
"Menken made a great attempt to spear it but couldn't reach. A quick
relay of the ball kept Maginn from getting beyond third, but on the
throw-in Wilson reached second."
"Men on second and third and no man out!" ejaculated Joe.
"Those fellows have got their batting clothes on," commented Bob. "Did
you notice that each one of them offered at the first ball pitched? I
guess they've solved Roberts at last."
That the manager of the Giants had reached the same conclusion was
evident from the pause that followed and the subsequent notice that
Compton had taken Roberts' place in the box.
"Strike one!"
"Strike two!"
"That begins to sound better," Jimmy comforted himself.
His satisfaction was of short duration.
"Ackerson hits to deep short. The ball took a high bound and Helmer by a
brilliant effort knocked it down, but too late to get the runner at
first. Maginn scored and Wilson reached third."
"That makes two runs," sighed Herb. "One more and they'll tie the
score."
"And with two men on bases and nobody out, they're almost sure to do
that much at least," muttered Bob. "It's too bad to have the Giants blow
the game just when they had it in their kit bags."
The silence was almost painful as the boys waited for the next
announcement.
"Ackerson steals second just beating Thompson's good throw by a hook
slide."
Almost a groan went up in the crowded room. Some of the boys got so
restless that they rose and paced the room, or sat forward in their
chairs as though they were straining their eyes to look at the actual
diamond.
"A single now will bring in two runs and put Pittsburgh in the lead,"
groaned Jimmy.
"And with Krug, their clean-up man at the bat!" said Bob glumly.
"Strike one!"
"Ball one!"
"Ball two!"
"He's trying to make him bite at bad ones," commented Herb.
"Strike two!"
"Ball three!"
"Now he's got Compton in a hole," murmured Jimmy. "He's got to put the
next ball over."
"And if he does, I'm afraid that Krug will kill it," gloomed Joe.
There was a momentary pause.
"Krug hits a terrific drive to the box," announced the voice. "Compton
leaps into the air and spears it with his left hand. He throws to Albers
and catches Wilson, who had left the bag, Albers hurls the ball to
Menken and gets Ackerson, who was trying to scramble back to second.
Triple play, three men out and the Giants win, three to two!"
There was a moment of stupefaction in the crowded room. Then a roar
broke out that brought Mrs. Layton up to the room in a hurry under the
impression that something dreadful had happened.
"It's all right, Mother," laughed Bob. "We're only excited over the
baseball game. It came out so unexpectedly that it took us all off our
feet."
"You seem to be all on your feet, as far as I can judge," Mrs. Layton
smiled back. "But you can make all the noise you want as long as you are
happy," and with a wave of her hand she left them.
"A triple play!" exclaimed Bob hilariously. "The thing that happens only
once in a blue moon. Say, fellows, maybe we didn't pick out a corking
game to christen our radio with!"
"And almost as good as though we were right at the grounds," cried Joe.
"I've seen many a game, and I never got more real excitement over one
than I've had this afternoon. I could almost hear my heart beat while I
was wondering what Krug was going to do."
"And just think what it will be when the World's Series comes along in
the fall!" chuckled Jimmy. "We'll take in every game without going out
of Clintonia."
"That is, if it's played in the East," put in Herb. "It may not be so
easy if it's played in the West."
"It doesn't matter where it's played," rejoined Jimmy. "By the time fall
comes, we'll probably have improved our radio set so that we can listen
in on Chicago just as easily as we have to-day on Newark. And, anyway,
the results will be sent to the Newark station so that it can be
broadcasted all over the East. We'll take them all in, never you fear,
and we won't have to pay a fortune to speculators for the tickets
either. But what is that I smell?" he broke off suddenly, sniffing the
air that had become laden with savory odors.
"See his nose twitch," gibed Joe. "Trust him to forget baseball or
anything else when doughnuts are around."
"Doughnuts!" exclaimed Jimmy, an expression of cherubic bliss coming on
his face. "Can it be? Yes, there can be no mistake. It must be--it
is--doughnuts!"
"Right the first time," laughed Bob. "I didn't want to say anything
about it while the game was on, but Mother gave me a tip that she'd
start making them so that we could have them fresh and hot by the time
we were through. So come ahead downstairs, fellows, and if any of you
get away without having your fill of about the niftiest doughnuts ever
made, it will be your own fault."
There was no need of a second invitation, and the boys, with Jimmy in
the van, hurried downstairs where several big dishes heaped high with
crisp, delicious doughnuts awaited them. They fell to at once, and the
table was swept clear as though by magic.
"That puts the finishing touch on a perfect day," sighed Jimmy, with
perfect content.
"Right you are," agreed Joe. "And say, fellows, wasn't that a peach of a
game?"