Dick Prescott struck the ball with all his might.

He struck with greatest force just barely below the center of the sphere.
It was a fearful crack, aimed right and full of steam and speed.
"_Wow_!" Three base-runners, at the first sound had started running for all they were worth.

Dick's bat flew like a projectile itself, fortunately hitting no one, and Prescott was running like Greek of old on the Olympic field.
One man in! The ball had gone past the furthest limits of outfield.

Before it had touched the ground Dick Prescott touched first and started for second.
Gardiner right and left fields were running a race with center field.
The latter was the one to get it, but his two supporters simply couldn't stand still.
Prescott kicked the second bag.

Almost at the same instant the second man was in.
Score tied! What about that ball?
It was rolling on the ground, now, many yards ahead of the flying center-field.
Dick was nearing third, the man ahead of him fast nearing the home plate.
Centerfield had the ball in his hands, whirling as if on springs.
Third man safe home---Dick Prescott turning the third bag and into the last leg of the diamond.
Center-field threw with all his might, but the distance was long.
Second base had to stoop for the ball.