LITMIR.BIZ

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it, Rover! Hold it!”

      “Come on in—don’t wait! Come on in!”

      Jack looked down into the field and saw that the fielder was just in the act of picking up the ball. With a great bound, he started for the home plate, and when ten feet from that place dropped to the ground and slid in with the rapidity of lightning.

      “He’s safe! A home run!”

      “That ties the score!”

      “Now then, boys, go in and finish ’em up!”

      The din and excitement was now tremendous. The score was indeed a tie. Which club would win?

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CHAPTER II

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ABOUT THE ROVER BOYS

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      “Now then, fellows, don’t forget to bring in the winning run!”

      “Show Hixley High what we can do!”

      And then came a rousing cheer from the Colby Hall cadets, and once more they gave the well-known military academy refrain.

      Any ordinary pitcher might have been nervous over the prospect ahead of him; but Dink Wilsey was not one of that caliber, and he faced the next batsman as coolly as he had all of the others. Two balls were called, and then two strikes, and then two more balls, and the batsman walked to first base.

      “Hurrah! he’s afraid to give him the kind we chew up.”

      “Maybe he’ll let the next man walk, too!” cried another.

      But this was not to be. The next cadet up went out on a foul, and the inning came to a sudden end.

      “A tie! A tie! The game is a tie!”

      “Now for the winning run! Hixley High!”

      “That’s the stuff! Larsen to the bat! And, my, won’t he wallop that ball!”

      Larsen was the Hixley High center fielder—a tall, sturdy youth with blue eyes and light hair, of Norwegian descent. He came to the plate with a “do-or-die” look on his face. He allowed two balls to pass him, only one of which, however, was called a strike. Then he made a sweep for the next ball, sending it out in a red-hot liner toward Jack.

      Many a young ball player would have stepped out of the way with such a red-hot variety of baseball coming his way. But not so Jack Rover. Like a flash his hands went out and he caught the ball firmly, although the impact of the sphere whirled him half way around.

      “Gee, look at that!”

      “I wouldn’t have caught that ball for a thousand dollars!”

      A great shout of approval rang out, and during this Gif hurried over to Jack’s side.

      “How about it—did it hurt you any?” he questioned quickly.

      “It stung me a little, that’s all,” was Jack’s reply. His hands burnt like fire, but he did not intend to let anybody know it.

      “One down! Now for the other two!” came the cry.

      “Not much! Here is where we score!”

      But alas for the hopes of Hixley High! The next man up went out on strikes, and the fellow to follow knocked a foul which was easily gathered in by the third baseman.

      “Now here is where we bring home the bacon!” cried Ned Lowe, one of the Colby Hall fans.

      Andy Rover had been burning to distinguish himself, and now his chance came. First to the bat, he made a very neat base hit. Then, however, came an out, and the Colby Hall boys were, for a moment, downcast. But they quickly recovered when the next player made a single and Andy slid around safely to third.

      “Now then, a hit! Just a neat little hit!” came the entreating cry.

      “Oh, if only they do get it!” murmured Ruth Stevenson. “I wish Jack was at the bat.”

      “It’s my cousin Dick!” cried May Powell, and she was right—Spouter Powell was up.

      Spouter was not a particularly strong ball player, but he had one feature which was in his favor—he knew how to keep cool, and that helped greatly in this heart-breaking emergency. He waited calmly until two strikes and two balls had been called, and then he struck a low one, sending it just inside the first-base line. It slipped past the baseman, and as Spouter’s feet crossed the bag, Fred Rover slid in safely to the home plate.

      “Hurrah! Hurrah! Colby Hall wins!”

      Then followed a wild cheering and yelling, in the midst of which the crowds on the bleachers and the grandstand broke forth to mingle with the players on the ball field. Of course, the Hixley High students were much crestfallen, yet they tried to take their defeat in good part.

      “Three cheers for Hixley High!” shouted Gif Garrison, and they were given with a will. Then followed a cheer from the high-school students for those of the military academy, and then the crowd started to disperse.

      “Oh, boys! some celebration to-night, what?” cried Randy Rover, and in the exuberance of his spirits he turned several handsprings on the grass.

      “You bet we’ll celebrate!” exclaimed his cousin Fred.

      “Say! we ought to shoot off the old cannon for this,” burst out Andy Rover. He referred to an ancient fieldpiece located on the front lawn of the school.

      “Too dangerous,” interposed his cousin Jack. “That old cannon is too rusty, and it would fly into a million pieces.”

      “Yes, but we might——”

       Boom!

      It was a loud explosion coming from a considerable distance. The cadets, as well as all the others gathered on the ball field, looked at each other in surprise.

      “What could that have been?” questioned Fred Rover.

      “Sounds like a big cannon going off,” answered Walt Baxter.

       Boom! Boom!

      Two more explosions rent the air, both much louder than the first. The very ground seemed to be shaken by the concussion.

      “Say, that sounds like a warship!”

      “No warships around here,” was the answer.

      “Maybe it’s a German Zeppelin!”

      “Gee! do you suppose the Germans have come over here to bombard us?”

       Boom! Boom! Boom!

      Several more explosions came now close upon the others, each explosion heavier than those which had gone before. The ground all around seemed to tremble, and those who were still in the grandstand cried out in alarm.

      “The grandstand is going down! Everybody jump for his life!”

      “Look! Look!” was the sudden cry from Jack Rover, and he pointed to a place on the opposite shore of Clearwater Lake. A dense volume of smoke was rolling skyward. Then came another tremendous explosion, and a mass of wreckage could be seen to be lifted skyward.

      “It’s the Hasley ammunition factory going up!” cried Fred Rover. “What an awful thing to happen!”

      “That factory is right across the lake from our school!” cried Martha Rover. “I wonder if it will damage that

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