He struck it, but feebly.

Another of those short-winded, high-arched pops went up in air.
There was no hope or chance for Hazelton to get to the spot in time---and Wayland's man away from third was steaming in while Purcell made the home plate at a bound.
Dick raced---raced for all he was worth, though his heart felt as if steam had shut down.
Across the grass raced Prescott, as though he believed he could make history in fifths of seconds.
In his speed he went too far.

The ball was due to come down behind him.
There was no time to think.

Running at full speed as he was, Pitcher Dick rose in the air.

It looked like an incredible leap---but he made it.