Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Support; Or, A Triple Play онлайн

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Away out in the far extreme of left field Swiftwing finally ran down the ball. But Hanson was almost to third, and the spectators in the grand stand and on the bleachers were certain he could reach home before the ball could be sent in.

“Come home! come home!” they screamed.

Hanson crossed third, and the coacher sent him right along.

In the meantime Swiftwing had picked up the ball and given it a quick snap to Gamp, the long New Hampshire youth, who was within two rods of him. Joe turned with the ball in his hand, and saw Hanson crossing third.

Then Joe set his teeth and swung back the hand that held the ball. The crowd expected he would throw to Rattleton, on second. At first it seemed that he had thrown to second, but had failed to get the range correctly.

Then it was seen that Gamp had tried the seemingly impossible task of throwing to the plate to cut the runner off.

“Run, Hanson—run!” shouted the spectators.

Hanson was doing his best to beat the ball to the plate, but that ball came on with amazing speed. It was almost a “line throw” from the far outfield, and the crowd was amazed by the manner in which the ball hung up in the air instead of dropping to the ground. It showed what wonderful force had been put into the throw.