In the sixth, after having two men struck out, the Norths took two base hits away from Prescott, and had men on first and second.

In an unwary moment for the Centrals the man at second made third just ahead of the ball.
"We'll have a third run in a moment, if our boys keep their heads," murmured Hi Martin confidently.

"That will keep us at three to nothing." At that instant Dick delivered a ball that the North batsman tapped, but just hard enough to drive it for a fair catch into Prescott's hands.
"You idiot!" glared Martin at the offender, as the Norths took the field.
However, all predictions were still in favor of the North Grammars, who had two runs put away while they had kept Prescott's men from scoring.
"Fellows, we've got to do something, and we must make it strong!" muttered Dick, as his side came in.
Reade went to bat---was struck out.
"That wasn't very strong," sighed Tom, as he passed Dick going to the plate.
Dick Prescott had his favorite bat in his hand.

He gripped it a little harder for an instant, then relaxed and waited for Hi's puzzling delivery.
"Strike one!" Dick swung for the next one that came.

Almost mechanically Tozier opened his mouth to call: "Stri-----" But Dick's willow cut in with a "whack!" "Woof! Whoop!" Central boys among the spectators sent up an expectant yell, then watched breathlessly.