He reached first, but as he turned, the ball fell into the hands of Lehigh's second baseman, and Greg fell back to safety at first.
Ebbett, who followed, hit at the third offer, driving the ball almost under the feet of Lehigh's right-fielder.

As that man seized it he saw that Greg was within kicking distance of second bag, so he threw to first and Ebbett was out.
Dick now stepped confidently forward.

He looked at Lehigh's tired pitcher with a challenging smile.
At the first offer, Prescott struck the leather sphere---crack! In an instant Greg was in motion, while Dick raced as though bent on catching his chum.

The ball had gone out over the head of center, who was now faithfully chasing it across outfield.
Greg came in and hit the plate amid a cyclone of Army enthusiasm.
The band was playing in sheer joy.

Dick kicked second bag, then darted back as he saw the ball drop into the hands of the Lehigh catcher, who promptly sent it spinning straight into the third baseman's hands.
Then Maitland gained first on called balls, and Furlong did the same, which advanced Prescott to third.
Now Carson came up with the stick, sending out a slow grounder.
In like an Apache runner came Prescott, kicking the plate just before the ball dropped.
From the seats of the Army came the triumphant yell: "North point, east point, south point, West Point---_two points_!" The next Army man struck out, but West Point was breathing, now, with score two to one.
"Don't let Lehigh put another dot on the card, Prescott, and you'll be our pitcher this year," promised Maitland.
"Wait and see if the visitors can get any more from us," laughed Dick coolly.