and Fred Lace lifted a high foul back of third for Wop Grady to smother, squaring things up with not a count for either side.
Although Locke, feeling that he had the confidence of his teammates at last, seemed to take it easier, a measly scratch single was all Bancroft could find him for in the third; and, with Hoover hitting a two-minute clip in the last of the same inning, even the least astute spectator understood that it was practically certain to be a pitchers' battle right through to the finish.
With the passing of the innings, and the failure of his teammates to score, Hoover steadily became more savage in the box. At times, under cover of the shouting of the crowd, he insulted the batters with venomous, blood-tingling words.
Contrary to his usual practice, he sought the privilege of going on to the coaching line, where his sneers and slurs were of a nature that aroused protests from the crowd, and finally forced Riley to keep him on the bench when he was idle.
Locke opened the sixth by fanning Trollop, Grady, and Mace, one after another; and then, in the final half, he came first to bat for Kingsbridge.
"Get back off the pan, you peanut-headed sample of nature's carelessness," rasped Hoover,
