get 'em!'' Indeed the big catcher was the main-stay of the home team.The bulk of the work fell upon his shoulders.Dalgren was wild and kept his catcher continually blocking low pitches and wide curves and poorly controlled high fast balls.
But they were all alike to Carroll.Despite his weight, he was as nimble on his feet as a goat, and if he once got his hands on the ball he never missed it.It was his encouragement that steadied Dalgren; his judgment of hitters that carried the young pitcher through dangerous places; his lightning swift grasp of points that directed the machine-like work of his team.
In this inning Carroll exhibited another of his demon chases after a foul fly; he threw the base-stealing Crane out at second, and by a remarkable leap and stop of McReady's throw, he blocked a runner who would have tied the score.
The Cowboys blanked their opponents in the first half of the ninth, and trotted in for their turn needing one run to tie, two runs to win.
There had scarcely been a breathing spell for the onlookers in this rapid-fire game.Every inning had held them, one moment breathless, the next wildly clamorous, and another waiting in numb fear.What did these last few moments hold in store? The only answer to that was the dogged plugging optimism of the Denver players.
To listen to them, to watch them, was to gather the impression that baseball fortune always favored them in the end.
``Only three more, Dal.Steady boys, it's our game,'' rolled out Carroll's deep bass.How virile he was! What a tower of strength to the weakening pitcher!
But valiantly as Dalgren tried to respond, he failed.The grind--the strain had been too severe.
When he finally did locate the plate Bluett hit safely.Langley bunted along the base line and beat the ball.
A blank, dead quiet settled down over the bleachers and stands.Something fearful threatened.
What might not come to pass, even at the last moment of this nerve-racking game? There was a runner on first and a runner on second.
That was bad.Exceedingly bad was it that these runners were on base with nobody out.Worst of all was the fact that Kane was up.Kane, the best bunter, the fastest man to first, the hardest hitter in the league! That he would fail to advance those two runners was scarcely worth consideration.Once advanced, a fly to the outfield, a scratch, anything almost, would tie the score.
So this was the climax presaged so many times earlier in the game.Dalgren seemed to wilt under it.
Kane swung his ash viciously and called on Dalgren to put one over.Dalgren looked in toward the bench as if he wanted and expected to be taken out.But Pat Donahue made no sign.
Pat had trained many a pitcher by forcing him to take his medicine.Then Carroll, mask under his arm, rolling his big hand in his mitt, sauntered down to the pitcher's box.The sharp order of the umpire in no wise disconcerted him.He said something to Dalgren, vehemently nodding his head the while.Players and audience alike supposed he was trying to put a little heart into Dalgren, and liked him the better, notwithstanding the opposition to the umpire.
Carroll sauntered back to his position.He adjusted his breast protector, and put on his mask, deliberately taking his time.Then he stepped behind the plate, and after signing for the pitch, he slowly moved his right hand up to his mask.
Dalgren wound up, took his swing, and let drive.
Even as he delivered the ball Carroll bounded away from his position, flinging off the mask as he jumped.For a single fleeting instant, the catcher's position was vacated.But that instant was long enough to make the audience gasp.Kane bunted beautifully down the third base line, and there Carroll stood, fifteen feet from the plate, agile as a huge monkey.He whipped the ball to Mahew at third.Mahew wheeled quick as thought and lined the ball to second.Sheldon came tearing for the bag, caught the ball on the run, and with a violent stop and wrench threw it like a bullet to first base.Fast as Kane was, the ball beat him ten feet.A triple play!
The players of both teams cheered, but the audience, slower to grasp the complex and intricate points, needed a long moment to realize what had happened.They needed another to divine that Carroll had anticipated Kane's intention to bunt, had left his position as the ball was pitched, had planned all, risked all, played all on Kane's sure eye; and so he had retired the side and won the game by creating and executing the rarest play in baseball.
Then the audience rose in a body to greet the great catcher.What a hoarse thundering roar shook the stands and waved in a blast over the field! Carroll stood bowing his acknowledgment, and then swaggered a little with the sun shining on his handsome heated face.Like a conqueror conscious of full blown power he stalked away to the clubhouse.
Madge Ellston came out of her trance and viewed the ragged score-card, her torn parasol, her battered gloves and flying hair, her generally disheveled state with a little start of dismay, but when she got into the thick and press of the moving crowd she found all the women more or less disheveled.And they seemed all the prettier and friendlier for that.It was a happy crowd and voices were conspicuously hoarse.
When Madge entered the hotel parlor that evening she found her uncle with guests and among them was Burns Carroll.The presence of the handsome giant affected Madge more impellingly than ever before, yet in some inexplicably different way.She found herself trembling; she sensed a crisis in her feelings for this man and it frightened her.She became conscious suddenly that she had always been afraid of him.
