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The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day; The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all, and Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball. And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred, there was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

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Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell; it rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell. It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat, for Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place; there was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile lit Casey’s face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, no stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat.

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