"He's going up," sang out "Red" Curry.

"I knew he couldn't last," taunted Iredell, as he threw his cap in the air.

But Alvarez was not through, by any means. Undaunted by that tremendous home run which might have taken the heart out of any pitcher, he braced himself, and the next two men went out on fouls.

"I thought we had them on the run that time," observed McRae, "but he's got the old comeback right with him."

"Never mind," exulted Robbie. "We're beginning to find him now, and we've cut down that big lead of theirs to one run. The boys will get after him the next inning."

But even the lucky seventh pa.s.sed without bringing any luck to the visitors, and although the major leaguers got two men on bases in the eighth, the inning ended with the score still three to two in favor of the local club.

"Looks as though we were up against it," said Jim, anxiously, as the Giants went to bat for the last time.

"It sure does," responded Joe. "I'll hate to look at the papers to-morrow morning. The whole country will have the laugh on us."

"The boys will want to keep away from McRae if they lose," said Jim.

"He'll be as peeved as a bear with a sore head for the next three days or so."

"Now, Larry, show them where you live," sang out Curry, as the head of the Giant batting order strode to the plate.

"Kill it," entreated Willis. "Hit it on the seam."

"Send it a mile," exhorted Becker.

It was not a mile that Larry sent it, but it looked so to the left and center fielders who chased it as it went on a line between the two. A cleaner home run had probably never been knocked out on the Denver grounds.

Larry came galloping in to be mauled and pounded by his exulting mates, while McRae brought down his hand on Robbie's knee with a force that made that worthy wince.

"That ties it up," he cried. "Now, boys, for a whirlwind finish!"

CHAPTER XI

A CLOSE CALL

The crowds in the stand, which had been uproarious a few moments before, were quiet now. The lead which the local club had held throughout the game had vanished; the visitors had played an uphill game worthy of their reputation, and now they had at least an even chance.

Denton came to the bat, eager to emulate Larry's feat, but Alvarez was unsteady now--that last home run had taken something out of him. He found it hard to locate the plate, and Denton trotted down to first on b.a.l.l.s.

As no man was out and only one run was needed to gain the lead, a sacrifice was the proper play, and Burkett laid down a neat bunt in front of the plate that carried Denton to second, although the batter died at first.

Alvarez purposely pa.s.sed Willis on the chance of the next batter hitting into a double play, which would have retired the side. Becker made a mighty effort to bring his comrades in, but hit under the ball, and it went high in the air and was caught by Alvarez as it came down, without the pitcher moving from his tracks.

With two out, there was no need of a double play and the infielders, who had been playing close in, resumed their usual positions. Iredell, the next man up caught the ball square on the end of his bat and sent it whistling between center and third. The shortstop leaped up and knocked the ball down, but it was going too fast for him to hold.

Denton had left second at the crack of the bat, and by the time the infielder regained the ball had rounded third and was tearing like a racehorse toward the plate. There was little time to get set and the hurried throw home went over the catcher's head. Denton slid feet first over the plate, scoring the run that put his team in the lead.

Willis tried to make it good measure by coming close behind him, but by this time the catcher had recovered the ball and shot it back to Alvarez who was guarding the plate. He nipped Willis by three feet and the side was out.

But that one run in the lead looked as big as a house at that stage in the game.

"All you've got to do now, Hamilton, old man, is to hold them down in their half," said Brennan.

"Cinch," grinned Hamilton. "I'll have them eating out of my hand."

But the uncertainty that makes the national game the most fascinating one in the world was demonstrated when the Denver team came in to do-or-die in their half of the ninth.

Hamilton fed the first batter a snaky curve, which he lashed at savagely but vainly. The next was a slow one and resulted in a chop to the infield which Larry would have ordinarily gobbled up without trouble. But the ball took an ugly bound just as he was all set for it and went over his head toward right. Before Curry could get the ball the batter had reached second and the stands were once more in an uproar.

The uproar increased when Hamilton, somewhat shaken by the incident, gave the next batter a base on b.a.l.l.s, and the broad smiles which had suffused the faces of Robbie and McRae began to fade.

"Is Hamilton going up, do you think?" asked the Giant manager, anxiously.

"Looks something like it," replied Robbie, "but he'll probably brace. You see Denton's talking to him now, to give him a chance to rest up a little."

The third baseman had strolled over to Hamilton on pretense of discussing some point of play, but the crowd saw through the subterfuge, and shouts of protest went up:

"Hire a hall!"

"Write him a letter!"

"Play ball!"

Not a bit fl.u.s.tered by the shouts, Denton took his time, and after encouraging his team mate sauntered slowly back to his position.

But Hamilton's good right arm had lost its cunning. His first ball was wild, and the batter, seeing this, waited him out and was given a pa.s.s.

His comrades moved up and the bags were full, with none out and the heaviest sluggers of the team coming to the bat.

McRae and Brennan had been holding an earnest conference, and now on a signal from them Hamilton came in from the box.

"It's no use," said McRae to Brennan, while the crowd howled in derision.

"We'll have to play our trump and put Matson in to hold them down."

"But he hasn't warmed up," said Brennan dubiously.

"That makes no difference," replied McRae. "I'd rather put him in cold than anyone else warm."

"All right; do as you please," responded the other manager.

McRae called over to where Joe was sitting. The crack pitcher had been watching the progress of the game with keen interest, although making comparatively few comments. As McRae approached Joe, the crowd howled louder than ever at Hamilton.

"Why don't you learn how to pitch?"

"Say, let us send one of the high-school boys into the box for you!"

"Too bad, old man, but I guess we've got your goat all right!"