"Great Scott!" gasped Hi Martin, in sheer dismay, his gaze fixed on the approaching Centrals.
"Where in the mischief did they get those uniforms?" demandedTom Percival, of the North Grammars, his mouth agape.
"Well, they have 'em, anyway," added Bill Rodgers. "And they certainly look more than fine, don't they?"
"The uniforms are made of cheap stuff, I'll wager," muttered Hi hoarsely. There was a choke in his throat over seeing his own nine so badly eclipsed in appearance by the despised Central Grammars.
Not less astonished were the Central Grammar boy spectators themselves. Not one, outside of the baseball squad, had known that any uniforms were to be worn on the field.
"Huh!" remarked Ted Teall, captain of the South Grammars, to one of his lieutenants. "We are the only school nine in town now without a uniform. When we get on the field to play we'll look like a lot of rag-pickers, won't we?"
"I know where they got 'em," choked Hi at last. "Their principal, Old Dut Jones, wouldn't see his boys look too badly compared with us, so he bought 'em as good uniforms as he could afford. It's a shame. That's what it is."
If Captain Dick and his baseball players walked rather proudly onto the field, it may have been partly due to the fact that they now knew that their uniforms were anything but "cheap." In point of fact, their uniforms had cost more than twice as much as those worn by Hi Martin's players.
"How did they get such uniforms?" That was the question that passed from lip to lip.
The answer was very simple, though as yet none of the onlookers knew what it was.
Not until one minute past four did the Central Grammar players know anything about the uniforms. Old Dut had dismissed the rest of the school, detaining Dick's players.
"Young men, we shall now hasten up to Exhibition Hall," announced the principal. He marched them up there, where they found the smiling Mr. Brown, backed by an assistant. Several boxes, opened, lay upon the floor.
"Now, young men," called Mr. Brown jovially, "let us see how quickly you can take your baseball uniforms and get into them."
"But what——-" began Dick, then paused in absolute bewilderment.
"It's all right," Mr. Brown cheerily assured the dazed boys."The uniforms are all paid for—-won't cost you a cent."
"But you—-you told us," protested Captain Dick Prescott, "that you were collecting measurements of members of schoolboys' baseball clubs."
"Well, that's the truth," protested Brown, with a mock air of injured innocence. "I'm a traveling salesman for the Haynes Sporting Goods Company, one of the biggest baseball outfitting companies in this part of the country. It's my business to travel and take orders."
"But we didn't give you any orders," gasped Dave.
"Some one did," laughed Mr. Brown.
"Who did?" blurted Tom Reade.
"Did you, Mr. Jones?" cried Dick.
"Not I," laughed the principal. "But I'll tell you, boys, who did. Prescott, you remember Mr. Winthrop, who is acting for Colonel Garwood in trying to find the latter's son? Amos Garwood hasn't yet been found, but Mr. Winthrop is satisfied that they are close at his heels, and that they will soon find him. Colonel Garwood is a very wealthy old man, and very fond of his missing son. Mr. Winthrop inquired how he could best serve the boys who had brought him the first word. Some one, I believe it was Len Spencer, the 'Blade' reporter, told about your not having uniforms. Mr. Winthrop wired the Haynes Company, placing an order for the best of uniforms, provided they could be finished to be delivered this afternoon. And here they are."
"When do you youngsters play?" called out Brown laughingly. "To-day or some other day?"
"I would recommend you to make good time," Old Dut urged. "You don't want to start the season by being late, do you. Besides the North Grammar boys might then claim the game by default."
That was enough to set Dick Prescott and his dazed comrades at work in earnest.
The uniforms were of blue, and of fine texture. Even baseball shoes had been provided. The stockings were blue. Then came the trousers. The blue jersey shirts bore proudly in front two golden letters each, "C.G." This inscription stood, of course, for "Central Grammar." Then there were coats of blue, to slip on over the jersey shirts; caps of blue and belts of blue, the latter edged with golden yellow to match the shirt initials.
Besides there were a catcher's mask, gloves for the different field players, half a dozen baseballs and an even dozen of bats.
"Finish dressing as quickly as you can," urged Old Dut. "Your time is slipping away."
At last they were ready. Carrying masks, bats, gloves, they fell in by twos, Principal Jones marching them from the building, along the street and into the field where their arrival had created such a furor.
Yet, excited as he was, Dick had not forgotten to ask both Mr. Brown and Old Dut not to fail to express their deepest thanks to Mr. Winthrop and to Colonel Garwood.
Ben Tozier, of the High School baseball nine, had been accepted as umpire for the day. He now came forward to meet Captain Dick's company.
"My, but you youngsters look about the finest ever," announced Ben. "I hope you can play as well as you look. Captain Prescott, do you claim any time for practice?"
"Not if it's time to begin playing," Dick answered.
"Yes; it is. I'll call Martin, and you two will attend me for the pitch of the coin."
"Wait a moment, please," called Hi, from across the field.
"What's the matter?" shouted a spectator.
"The North Grammars want to go home and change their uniforms," shouted another onlooker.
There was a great laugh at this, which caused Hi Martin to color and look belligerent. He came stalking across the field.
"Ladies and gentlemen," shouted Ted Teall, affecting the manner of an announcer, "I beg to state that the game about to begin will be between two famous nines, known as the Gentlemen and the Chromos."
At this there was more laughter, while Hi Martin shook with rage. Looking at the bright red so prominent in the North Grammar uniforms, there could be no doubt as to which nine had been dubbed the "Chromos."
"Mr. Umpire," called Hi angrily, "have you power to preserve order here to-day?"
"I'll do my best," agreed Tozier. "But this is an open field that any one may enter, and there are no police here."
"Play ball, you red-heads!" jeered a boy, referring to the bright red caps of the North Grammars. "Don't holler for the police until you find out whether you can stand up to the Centrals."
"Now, let us stop all guying of the players and all other nonsense," called Tozier firmly, as he held up his right hand. "Remember that we are here to see a game and not to listen to cheap wit."
That held the unruly ones back for a few moments. Tozier drew a coin from one of his pockets, exhibited it to the captains, and asked:
"Who will call the toss?"
"Martin may," nodded Captain Dick.
"Ready, then."
Ben Tozier sent the coin spinning skyward. When it turned to fall Hi called out:
"Tails."
"Heads win," declared Umpire Tozier.
"Captain Martin, have you any choice?" inquired Prescott politely.
"I didn't win the toss," Hi returned sulkily.
"But we'll give you your choice if you have any," Dick insisted.
"We'd rather go to bat," Hi observed.
"Then, Mr. Umpire," continued Dick, turning to Tozier, "the Centrals choose the field."
"Get to your places," nodded Ben. "Martin at bat; Percival on deck," called the score-keeper.
Dick ran down to the pitcher's box, while Greg, slipping on mask and glove, took up his position behind the plate.
Tozier carelessly broke the seal on the package enclosing a ball, inspected it, and dropped it into Dick's hands. Dick threw an overshoot to Greg, who mitted it neatly.
But Ted Teall could not let the occasion go by without some nonsense.
"Whack!" shouted Teall. "Woof! Did you hear it strike? And it hurt, too. Who has the arnica bottle?"
There was laughter, but Dick ignored it, sending in a neat drive over the plate. Greg caught it and sent the ball back.
As it once more reached Dick's hand Umpire Tozier shouted:
"Ready! Play ball!"
Greg Holmes signaled what he wanted. Dick gave the ball a twist, and the game was on.
"Say, dress a kid up swell, and send him on the street—-did you ever know him to be any good?" demanded Ted Teall scornfully of those who stood near him. "Well, that's what ails the Centrals. They're wearing a bale of glad dry goods and they can't keep their eyes off their togs long enough to find the ball."
Dick and Dave heard this as they went to grass at the end of the third inning.
So far, though the Centrals had made some bases, none of their players had succeeded in scoring at the plate. One of Hi Martin's players had scored a run in the first inning and another in the third.
"Teall is a torment, isn't he?" whispered Dick.
"He is now," muttered Dave. "He won't be after this game is finished."
"Why not?"
"I'm going to trim some of the funny talk out of him after the game."
"Don't do anything foolish, Dave," urged Dick.
"That won't be foolish. It's necessary."
"Don't do it, Dave, or even think of it. You'll give the Centrals the name of not being able to stand defeat."
Then Dick ran over to the box to begin pitching for the fourth inning. His arm had not given out. Prescott had been doing some pretty good pitching, and Greg had backed him up well. But the North Grammars had a few batsmen who seemed to guess the ball in advance.
"Hey, Mr. Umpire," shouted a boyish onlooker, as Dick faced the plate, ball in hand, "better call the game and let the Centrals play some weak primary school team."
Even at this cheap witticism there was considerable laughter.It made Dick's face flush.
"I'll show 'em whether we can play or not," he muttered to himself, as he caught the signal from Greg. "We've got to start, too, for we've got to match those two runs and then pick up this game for our own."
Hi Martin was again at the plate. He swung his bat idly, grinning mockingly at Prescott.
"I'll let you off without trying, if you'll give me second base," offered Hi tantalizingly.
"If the batsman talks again he will be ordered off the grounds," declared Umpire Tozier sternly.
But Dick felt the sting of his opponent's taunt and longed to be even. Greg signaled for a drop ball—-a difficult one for a schoolboy to throw. It was the first time in the game that Greg had asked for this.
Dick "made up" the ball with extra care, then let it go. It looked like a chest-high ball as it came, and was so slow that Hi threw back his bat to slam it.
"A home run on this!" thought Hi exultantly.
From the sides of the field came a mocking laugh, for the ball had dropped, leaving Hi pounding wildly at the air.
"Strike one!" called Ben Tozier, slipping a pebble to his other hand.
Dick smiled quietly as the ball came back to him. Greg signaled for an outshoot. But Dick "made up" the ball and imitated his delivery of the throw before.
"I'll get down and get it, this time!" flashed Martin resentfully.He did, only to find himself no nearer the ball than before.
"Strike two!"
Tittering came from the sides now, also some applause. The spectators had just begun to understand that Dick Prescott was pitching better ball.
"Ball one!"
Hi felt a bit better for a moment. Then:
"Strike three! Out!"
With a muttered growl of disgust, Captain Martin gave up his post to Percival.
"What has got into Prescott?" demanded Rodgers, of the Norths, anxiously.
"Oh, we'll pound him to pieces soon," muttered Hi.
"Strike one!" sounded the umpire's steady, low voice.
In a moment or two more it was: "Strike three. Out!"
Then a third batsman took post. Dick Prescott, his face now flushed with pleasure, not humiliation, and his eyes flashing battle, put the third man out for the Norths.
Yet, though the Central Grammars put two of their men on bases, they, too, went back to grass ere a run could be scored.
The fifth inning was almost a duplicate of the fourth; no ground gained. 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. Was the luck about to change?
"Go it! Go it! Go it!" yelled the Central boys in three different pitches of enthusiasm.
Dick, as he struck first and turned, took a fleeting look at the North's right fielder, still in pursuit of the long fly that had gone by him and was rolling over the field. Then, straining lungs and nerves, Dick sprinted toward the second bag.
"Go it! Hustle!"
Behind him Dick heard the whistle of the coming ball. Just ahead of him was the plate. He took a long leap, then slid. Second baseman held up the ball in his right hand.
"Safe, safe!" yelled the gleeful Central spectators.
"Out! That was out!" hoarsely declared the boosters for the NorthGrammars.
"Safe at second," called Ben Tozier steadily.
"Oh, you ape of an umpire!" grunted Hi Martin disgustedly, as he mitted the ball from second. For an instant he watched Dick, who was edging away from second. Then he turned to send in a drive past Greg, who now hovered over the plate.
Greg Holmes went to two strikes and three balls, Hi all the time alertly watching Prescott at second.
Crack! And now Greg was running. Norths' left-fielder muffed the ball, then recovered and threw like a flash to third. But Dick was there a shade of a second ahead of the leather.
"Safe" declared the umpire.
Hi Martin flashed a warning look at the catcher for his nine, then sent a sweeping glare around the bases. Greg and Dick smiled sweetly back.
"Play ball!" ordered Umpire Tozier.
Dan Dalzell was now at bat, tingling with anxiety, though his grin seemed a yard wide.
"Oh, you Danny Grin! Eat the leather!" appealed a Central rooter from the side.
Dan grinned again, his look seeming to say, "Watch me!"
Two strikes, with no called balls. Dick, dancing away from third, felt himself on tenterhooks. Not all of his perspiration was due to the heat of the day.
Again Dan offered. Crack! A wild, gleeful whoop went up from some of the Central rooters, while others held their breath. The ball went high, and right field came running in for it. As it happened, the fielder underestimated the length of the flight. It struck the ground to his rear and rolled. Before the outfielder could pick it up Dan had kicked the first bag.
"Prescott! Prescott!"
Dick was in, scoring the first run, while Greg was at second, and Dan hugging first as though he dared not be found two yards away from that bag.
Henderson now went to bat, accompanied by the grave anxiety of the members of his nine, for Spoff was not one of the star players. True to expectations Spoff struck out.
"Do it, Hazelton! You've got to do it!" yelled the Central fans despairingly. "Don't miss any tricks!"
Harry, however, could find nothing safe to hit at. He took first on called balls, advancing Greg to third and Dan to second.
Wrecker Lane now swung the willow. On his face was a do-or-die, dogged expression. Wrecker was not a brilliant player, though he was one to whom defeat came hard.
"Go after it, Wrecker. Put it over hard! Slam!"
After two strikes and one ball had been called Wrecker let go in deadly earnest. Bang! The blow split the leather, which went in an erratic though by no means short course. Greg dashed in over the plate amid wild cheers. Dan, hotfooting as he had never before done in his life, crossed the plate also. Wrecker, panting, reached first, looked at the fielder almost on the ball, sped on, then prudently turned and make back for first.
Toby Ross now went to bat, and struck out in crisp one-two-three order.
"Wrecker, that was a bully liner!" glowed Dick, grasping the hand of the boy who had saved the score in its critical moment. "You seemed to have Hi Martin's delivery down to a certainty."
"Yes, and it was a wonder, too," confessed Wrecker, still a bit dazed. "I couldn't see the ball at all, but I knew that it was up to me to do something."
"How do you feel now, Chromos?" bawled Ted Teall at the beginning of the seventh.
The score was now three to two in favor of Central Grammar.
It was still there when the seventh ended, and also at the finish of the eighth. Then the North Grammars went to bat for the first half of the ninth.
"You fellows simply must do something—-do a lot," had been Hi's almost tearful urging as be addressed his fellows at the bench.
It was Bill Rodgers who stood before him as Dick twirled the ball, awaiting Greg's signal, which came a second later—-a drop ball.
Bill swung for it, then looked foolish. Two more bad guesses, and he was out.
A second man was soon out, and then a third. Not one of the trio had been able to judge Dick's ball.
Central Grammar had won the first game by the close score of three to two. That, however, was as good for all purposes as any other could possibly be.
"What ails you Norths?" amiably remarked Ted Teall. "Is it the gayness of your uniforms? The red gets in your eyes and keeps you from seeing the ball."
"You're not funny," glowered Hi Martin. "You're merely a clown."
"Wait until my nine plays yours," retorted Teall genially. "Then we'll see who looks more like a clown—-you or I."
But now there was time, and Dick Prescott and his fellows had to tell scores of eager inquirers how they came by their new uniforms, when they had not expected to have any.
"Just what I thought, or as bad, anyway," muttered Martin when the news was brought to him. "These muckers couldn't buy their uniforms, as our fellows did. They had to depend upon charity to make a good appearance on the field."
"Hold on, there, Martin," angrily objected one of the Central fans. "I suppose it was charity, too, when you gave our fellows the game, eh? It was mighty kind of you, too."
"Huh!" retorted Hi. "This is only one game lost, and by a hair's breadth. Wait until the end of the season, and see who carries the laurels."
"Prescott, what do these letters mean on your jersey?" asked TedTeall, halting and squinting at the golden yellow emblems.
"C.G.?" smiled Dick. "That's for Central Grammar, of course. But the letters have been put on so that they can be easily changed around to read G.C."
"What'll that stand for?" quizzed Teall, winking at some of the other fellows.
"Why, we'll change the letters around after we've played this series, and then the letters will stand for Grammar Champions."
"Oh, I see," grinned Ted. "My, but that will be kind of you, to give our fellows the jerseys."
"You haven't won them yet," retorted Dick. "The Centrals will keep their own jerseys and wear the G.C. by right of conquest."
"Perhaps they will, and perhaps they won't," muttered Hi Martin angrily to himself and Tom Percival.
Saturday morning, about eight o'clock, the entire team of the Central Grammar met at Dave Darrin's house. In the front yard they waited for their captain.
"Queer Dick should be a bit late," muttered Torn Reade. "He's our model of punctuality."
"You'll see him come around the corner 'most any minute," Greg predicted.
Nor was Holmes wrong in this. When Prescott arrived he came on a jog trot.
"We wondered what kept you, our right-to-the-minute captain," announced Dave.
"Well, you see," replied Dick quizzically, "I've been thinking."
"Thinking?" repeated Tom. "Oh, I understand. You've been thinking about what the man on the clubhouse steps said."
"Well, hardly anything as big as that," teased Dick. "I'm afraid that you fellows are growing impatient on what is, after all, not a very important matter."
"So, then, the speech of the man on the clubhouse steps wasn't very important?" inquired Tom, seeking to pin their leader down.
"Why, that would depend on how you happened to regard what the man on the clubhouse steps said," Dick laughed.
"Is that what you're going to tell us?" almost bowled Hazelton.
"I don't know that I am going to tell you much of anything," Prescott continued.
"What did the man on the clubhouse steps say?" asked Dan, advancing with uplifted bat.
"You'll never drag the secret from me by threats or violence," retorted Dick, with a stubborn shake of the head.
"We're getting away from the point," Tom went on. "You said you had been thinking."
"Well?"
"You've made the claim of having been thinking, but you haven't offered the slightest proof."
"What I was thinking, fellows, was that we are obliged to meet the South Grammar nine on the diamond to-day."
"We're not afraid of them," scoffed Dave.
"No," Dick went on, "but I've an idea that we're up against an ordeal, after a fashion. You all know what a guyer Ted Teall is—-how he nearly broke up our match with the Norths last Wednesday afternoon."
"Ted can't do any guying this morning," declared Greg readily. "If he does, the umpire will rule him out of the game, and that would snap all of Ted's nerve. No; Ted won't guy us to-day."
"But I'll tell you just what will happen to us," Dick offered. "The spectators who come from the South Grammar aren't under the umpire's orders. You may be sure that Ted has posted the fellows from his school on a lot of things that they can yell at us. Oh, we'll get guyed from the start to the finish of the game."
"If they go too far," hinted Dave, "we can thrash some of the funny ones afterwards."
"I shan't feel like thrashing anyone for having a little fun with us," remarked Reade.
"Thrashing wouldn't do any good, anyway," Dick continued. "Besides which, we might just happen, incidentally, to be the fellows that got the worst thrashing if we started anything like that going. I don't object to good-natured ridicule. But the South Grammar fellows may have some things to yell at us that will rattle our play. That's what I want to stop."
"How can you stop it?" queried Greg.
"That's what kept me home a little later than I intended to stay there," Dick replied. "I have been thinking, since last night, how I could take some of the starch out of Ted Teall, and have some way of throwing the horse laugh back on the South Grammar boys in case they start anything funny enough to rattle us."
"How did the thinking get on?" Tom wanted to know.
"I believe I've something here that will do it," Prescott replied, taking an object from one of his pockets and holding it up.
"It looks like a home-made ball for babies to play with," remarkedDan Dalzell, grinning.
"It's a home-made ball, all right," Dick nodded. "Yet I don't believe that I'd let a baby have it to play with."
"What's the matter with it?" Tom asked. "Loaded?"
"Some one told you," protested Prescott, pretending to look astounded.
"What are you going to do with that thing?" Dave insisted.
"If I have a chance I'm going to get Ted Teall up in the air, and before the crowd, too," Dick asserted.
"With this ball?" Greg asked, taking it from his friend's hand.
"Yes."
"Hm! I don't see anything about it to shatter the nerves of a hardy youth like Ted Teall," Greg muttered. "This ball is just wound with string and covered with pieces of old glove. Why, it's so soft that I don't believe I could throw it straight."
Greg raised the home-made ball to throw it.
"Here! Don't toss it, or you may put it out of business," objectedPrescott, taking it away from his friend.
"If the ball can't be thrown, then what on earth is it good for?" questioned Darrin.
"I'll come to that by degrees," Dick promised. "Did you know that dad has secured a license this year to sell fireworks at his store?"
"Yes," nodded several of the boys.
"Well, yesterday, Dad had a lot of samples come in from the manufacturers. There were a few of the extra big and noisy torpedoes," Dick explained. "I got one of them and wrapped this string and leather around it."
Then, in low tones, Dick confided to his comrades the use to which he hoped to put the ball. There were a good many grins as the plot dawned on the young diamond enthusiasts.
"That'll be a warm one, if it works," grinned Reade.
"Say, but I shall be hanging right around to see it happen," declaredDarrin.
Originally this Saturday game had been scheduled for two in the afternoon. However, so many of the schoolboys in town wanted to have Saturday afternoon for other fun that the time had been changed to nine in the forenoon.
"Hadn't we better be starting?" asked Dick, looking at his watch.
"Yes; I want to be in at the death of Teall," agreed Reade.
All in uniform the Central Grammars started down the street, though this time they did not march. As they moved along other boys joined them, some from the Central and others from the North Grammar. By the time that Dick's nine and substitutes neared the field more than a hundred fans trailed along with them.
Nearly three hundred other boys were walking about on the field, or lying down under the trees.
Already the South Grammar boys were on the field, practicing by way of warming up.
"Hello! Here come the bluebells!" yelled a group of South Grammar fans and rooters.
"Blue? You bet they'll be blue when the game is over!"
"Hey, Prescott! What'll you take for the letters on your shirt?"
"Gimme that yellow curl over your forehead? I saw it first."
"Oh, my, don't the Little Boys Blue look sweet?"
In silence the Central players marched by their tormentors. Dick gazed across the field to see Ted Teall swinging a bat at the home plate.
"Teall!" called Dick, as he and the others dropped their jackets at the batters' benches.
"Hello!" returned Ted. "I'm glad to see that you fellows really had the nerve to come to-day."
"I saw you doing some pretty wild batting, Teall," laughed DickPrescott. "That kind of work won't save you when I get started.Shall I throw you in a few real ones—-hard ones—-before weget at it in earnest?"
"Go on!" retorted Ted scornfully.
"Oh, I won't hurt you," Prescott promised.
"You bet you won't," boasted Teall.
"He's afraid, even before the game starts," jeered a group ofCentral Grammar boys. "That's right, Ted. Guard your life."
"Don't be afraid, Teall," Dick urged tantalizingly. "Trying to hit some of my deliveries will be something like an education for you."
"Bosh!" sneered Teall.
"Then why won't you try a few?"
"I will, if you really think you can throw a ball that will rattle me any," Teall agreed, grinning broadly.
"Go at him, Dick!"
"Whoop! Show him what a cheap batter he is."
Laughing, balancing a ball in his hands, Dick glided out on to the diamond.
"Ready, Ted? Just see what you can do with one like this," Dick mocked.
It was a swift ball, but a straight one. To a batsman of Teall's skill it was not a difficult one to hit. Ted swung his bat and gave the ball a crack that sent it far out into outfield.
"Is that the best you can do?" jeered Ted.
"Oh, I've one or two better than that," replied Dick, pretending to feel flustered.
Again Prescott sent in a swift one, and once more Teall sent the leather spinning over the field. Hoots and cat-calls from the Souths filled the air. The Central fans began to look a bit uneasy. What was their champion pitcher doing, to let Teall get away with his deliveries as easily as this?
A third ball Dick drove in, with the same result as before.
"Say, what you fellows need is practice," leered Ted.
"Look out that I don't catch you yet," mocked Dick Prescott, bending to scoop up the returning ball from the ground. Then he wheeled like a flash to confront the batsman.
This time, by a quick substitution, Dick held the home-made ball.He twirled it for an instant, then sent it in toward the plate.
"Just—-as—-easy!" scoffed Ted, whirling his bat, then reaching out for the ball.
Crack! Teall hit it soundly.
Bang! With such force had the batsman struck that he exploded the large torpedo inside the home-made ball. There was a rattling explosion, and Teall, unable to figure, in that first instant, what had happened, sent the bat flying.
"Ow-ow-ow!" yelled startled Ted, leaping up into the air. When he alighted he ran a dozen or more steps as fast as he could go, then halted and looked around him. For an instant Teall's face expressed panic.
Then mocking laughter from hundreds of throats greeted him.
"I knew any little thing out of the ordinary would rattle you," smiled Dick. "Don't lose your nerve. It wasn't anything."
"Just a fresh idiot's attempt to be funny!" growled Teall, his face now red with mortification.
"Laugh, Ted, confound you!" urged Tom Reade. "Laugh! Don't be a grouch."
"What you need, Teall," teased Dave Darrin, "is some nerve tonic. You ought not to let yourself get into such bad shape that you almost faint when you hit the ball."
For once Ted Teall's ready tongue went back on him. He could think of nothing to say that would not make him look still more ridiculous.
"I guess he'll be good, for one game at least," grimaced Dick as he turned to his teammates.
The game had gone into the third inning, with the Centrals retired from the bat and the Souths now in from the field.
In the second inning Greg, backed splendidly by Tom and Dick, had scored a run for his side—-the only run listed as yet.
In this third inning, with South Grammar now at the bat, two men were out, and one on second when Ted Teall stepped to the plate.
"Put a real slam over on 'em, Ted!" shouted a South fan.
"Drive a ball over into Stayton and then fill up the score card while the Centrals are looking for it!" advised another Teall partisan.
"Centrals?" jeered another boy from the South. Grammar. "Centrals?Show 'em they're just plain hello-girls!"
Ted grinned broadly at this "hello-girls" nickname. Just then another fan from the southern part of Gridley piped up:
"Ted, eat 'em. They're only nine pieces of blue cheese!"
That was going too far, and it was time for Central Grammar to take notice effectively.
"Bang!" roared one half of the Central fans.
"Ow-ow-ow!" yelled the other half of the Central boosters, leaping up into the air.
Even Ted Teall had to laugh at this mortifying reminder of his terror when he had struck the torpedo ball. The next instant his face went deep red, for everyone on the field appeared to be laughing and jeering at him.
"Confound Prescott and his tricks!" muttered Teall under his breath."It'll take a lot of thinking for me to get even with that trick."
Whizz-zz! went the ball by Ted's body, just below shoulder-high.
"Strike one!" called the umpire sharply.
"Centrals will get me rattled with that bang-ow-ow! of theirs every time they spring it on me," thought Ted savagely.
"Strike two!"
Again Ted had failed to realize that the ball was coming. In his anger be wondered whether he'd rather throw his bat at the umpire or at smiling Dick Prescott.
"Strike three!" called the umpire's steady voice. "Side out."
Then Ted, in sheer exasperation, did hurl his bat a score of feet away.
"Bang!" came in a volley of Central voices.
"Ow-ow-ow!" wailed the other half of Old Dut's boys while theNorth Grammars joined in.
"Go it, you boobs!" muttered Ted, shaking his fist at the spectators.
"Hurrah!" cheered Spoff Henderson from the subs' bench. "We know how to stop Ted Teall's mouth now!"
Teall happened to hear the remark.
"Oh, you fellows are a lot of boobies!" sputtered Ted wrathfully.
"Anyway," Toby Ross leered back at him, "we're not so young that we yell when we hit a ball by mistake."
In the fourth and fifth innings the Central Grammars, though they booked some base hits, did not succeed in getting any runs through. However, they succeeded in preventing Teall's nine from scoring, which kept the score still at one to nothing. In the first half of the sixth Harry Hazelton was brought home from third by a good one by Dan. Then the side went out. In this inning Teall again had a chance at bat. Before batting he stalked over to where a lot of his schoolfellows were grouped and muttered:
"Don't you fellows shoot any funny remarks in this inning. Keep quiet."
"Huh!" shot out one of the boys. "What's the matter with you, Ted?"
"No matter. But I don't want any funny line of talk steered over to the Centrals to-day."
"Seems to me you've changed a lot, Ted," grinned one of his classmates. "Yesterday afternoon you put us up to a lot of funny things to holler to-day."
"Forget 'em," ordered Ted.
"Dick Prescott certainly stabbed you with that torpedo," grinned another South. "Ted, your nerve is gone for to-day."
"Don't get too funny with me, or I'll see you after the game," threatened Teall, as he stalked away, for he was now on deck, and due to go next to bat.
The second man for the Souths struck out.
"Teall at bat!" called the score-keeper.
Hi Martin and a lot of the North Grammar boys had come to the field late. Hi didn't like to see the score two to nothing in favor of the Centrals. He would have preferred to have the Souths win.
"Let's get Prescott rattled?" whispered Martin.
"I don't believe you can do it," replied Bill Rodgers. "Prescott is a mighty cool one."
"Yes, we can," insisted Hi. "I'll tell you what to boiler just the instant that Teall picks up the stick and Prescott starts to twist the ball."
Ted, all unsuspicious, and believing that he had stilled his own band of teasing torments, picked up his bat and went to the plate.
"Put it over the robbers, Ted!" came from Hi Martin's crowd. "Don't be afraid of the Centrals—-the fellows who stole their uniforms from a lunatic in the woods."
Dick heard the senseless taunt and understood it. But it didn't anger or confuse him. Instead, the ball left his hand with surer guidance.
But a crowd of Central fans also heard, and imagined that the yell came from one of the groups of Souths.
"Bang! bang!" yelled a lot of Central Grammar boys with enthusiasm.
"Ow-ow-ow! Ow-ow-ow!" came the response.
"Strike one!" called the umpire. Ted, his face crimson and his eyes flashing fire, threw his bat from him.
"Teall, pick up your bat," ordered the umpire. "If you do that again I'll order you from the game."
"I don't care if you do!" trembled on Ted's lips, but he caught the words in time. He gulped, swallowed hard, hesitated, then went tremulously to pick up his stick. However, his grit was gone for the day. He struck out and retired.
"Ow-ow-ow!" yelled a few of the Central fans in the eighth, and Dave Darrin struck a two bagger, bringing Prescott in safe from second, scoring a third run and landing Darrin on second. Had not Ross struck out immediately afterward there would have been other runs scored. The count was now three to nothing in favor of the Central Grammars.
"Prescott's fellows are playing some ball," declared Bill Rodgers.
"Hub! You mean that the Souths don't know how to play," sneeredHi Martin.
"Teall's fellows are playing well," argued Rodgers. "If you watch, you'll see that the luck of the Centrals depends a lot on the way they run the bases. Whew! They go like greased lightning when they're sprinting around the diamond."
"Well, why shouldn't they run?" demanded Hi. "Prescott and his fellows have been running every day since the snow went away."
"I wish our Norths had been running all the time, too," sighedBill.
The Souths were playing desperately well in the field. Dick's side came in for the ninth, but did not succeed in getting another run.
"Now, watch 'em closely, fellows," counseled Dick, as, from the benches, he started his men out to the field. "The Souths are mad and game, and they may get runs enough in this last half to beat us. Play, all the time, as if you didn't know what it was to be tired. Keep after 'em!"
Dick struck the first South Grammar fellow out. The next man at bat took first on called balls. The next hit a light fly that was good for a base. The player who followed sent a bunt that Dave, as short-stop, fumbled. And now the bases were full.
"Oh, you Ted!" wailed the South fans hopefully. "Do your duty now, Teall!"
Ted gripped the bat, stepping forward. As he reached the plate he shot at his schoolmates a look of grim resolution.
"I'll bring those three fellows in, if I have to kill the ball, or drive it through a fielder!" muttered Ted resolutely. "If we can tie the score then we can break this fearful hoodoo and win the game yet."
"Don't let that pitcher scare you, Ted!" yelled a South encouragingly."He hasn't a wing any longer. It's only a fin."
"Codfish fin, at that," mocked another.
"Bang!" retorted a dozen Central fans.
Before the answering chorus could come Dick Prescott held up a hand, looking sternly at his sympathizers.
"Strike one!" called the umpire, and once more Teall reddened.
"I've got to brace, and work myself out of this," groaned red-facedTeall. "There's too much depending on me."
"Ball one!"
"Now, I hope the next one will be good, and that I can hit it a crack that will drive it into the next county," muttered Ted, feeling the cold sweat beading his forehead.
He judged wrongly, on a drop ball.
"Strike two!"
"Drive a plum into that pudding in the box, Ted," sang out one of his classmates.
"Ow-ow-ow!" shrieked a score of watching Central Grammar boys. That was the last straw. Ted felt the blood rush to his head and all looked red before him.
"Strike three! Side out! Game!" came slowly, steadily from the umpire. Then the score-keeper rose to his feet.
"Central Grammar wins by a score of three to nothing."
This time Ted Teall didn't throw his bat. Gripping it savagely, he stalked over to a group of his own schoolmates.
"What fellow was it that started the yelling?" demanded Ted huskily.
"Why?" challenged three or four of the Souths.
"I want to know who he is—-that's all," muttered Ted.
In a moment there was a mix-up. But Teall wasn't popular at that moment. A captain who had led his men into a whitewash was entitled to no very great consideration.
"Let go of that bat!" roared Ted, as he felt it seized. "Let go, or I'll hit some one with it."
"That's what he wants to do anyway," called out one of the boys."Yank it away from him!"
The bat torn from him, Ted Teall was fighting mad. He was so ugly, in fact, that he was borne to the ground, three of his own classmates sitting on him.
"You're all right, Ted," announced one of his classmates. "All that ails you is that you've got a touch of heat. Cool off and we'll let you up."
"There's one guyer who has lost his hold on his favorite pastime of annoying other people," remarked Tom Reade grimly.
"Dick's trick was the slickest that ever I saw done in that line," chuckled Dave Darrin. "But I wonder how our fellows tumbled to the idea of calling 'bang' first, and then following it up with 'ow-ow-ow'?"
"Want to know very badly?" Tom questioned.
"I surely do," Darry nodded.
"Well, then," Tom declared, "I put some of the fellows up to that trick."
"I wonder what Ted Teall will do after this when he wants to play rattles on the other side?" inquired Harry.
Dick & Co. were now making the most of Saturday afternoon. Having no money to spend, and no boat in which to enjoy themselves on the river, they had gone out of Gridley some distance to a small, clear body of water known as Hunt's pond.
When sufficient time after dinner had passed, they intended to strip and go in swimming, for this pond, well in the woods, was, by common understanding, left for boys who wanted to indulge in that sport.
"I don't believe Ted will get very funny, in the immediate future," replied Tom reflectively. "His fellows came to the field, all primed with a lot of funny remarks they were going to shoot at us during the game. Yet the only fellows who got hit by any flying funny talk were the Souths themselves. I have been wondering if 'Bang—-ow-ow' was what cost the Souths the game?"
"I don't quite believe that," replied Dick. "Yet I am certain that it took a lot of starch out of Ted himself. Do you remember that time when he went over and spoke to his fellows?"
"Yes," nodded Greg.
"Well," Dick pursued, "I've heard since that that was the time when Ted went over and begged his fellows to 'can' all funny talk until the game was over."
"But they didn't," chuckled Dan.
"That was why Ted was so angry at the end."
"Anyway," Tom insisted, "Teall isn't likely to bother us any more."
"Either he'll quit on the funny talk," agreed Prescott, "or else he'll go to the other extreme and be more tantalizing than ever."
It would greatly have interested these Central Grammar boys had they known that the subject of their conversation was even then listening to them. Ted Teall, sore and angry, had come away from town all by himself. He wanted a long swim in the pond, to see if that would cool off the anger that consumed him.
Hearing voices as he came through the woods, Ted halted first, then, crawling along the ground, made his way cautiously forward. And now the captain of the South Grammar nine lay flat, his head hidden behind a clump of low bushes.
"Having fun over me, are they?" growled Ted.
"It was a rough trick to play, of course," laughed Dick. "But I felt so wholly certain Ted's fellows would start in to break us up that I felt I had to spring that torpedo trick in order to shut the other crowd up in advance."
"Oh, you did, did you?" thought Teall angrily.
"But now there's something else to be thought of," Prescott went on. "Teall is bound to feel sore and ashamed, and he won't rest until be has done his best to get even with us."
"Teall had better leave us alone," replied Tom, shaking his head. "Ted's brain isn't any too heavy, and he'll never be equal to getting the better of a crowd with a Dick Prescott in it."
"We won't do any bragging just yet," Prescott proposed.
"That's right. You'd better not," Ted growled under his breath.
"Fellows," announced Dan Dalzell, "I've made an important discovery."
"I wonder if he saw me?" flashed through Teall's mind, as he tried to lie flatter than before.
"Name the discovery," begged Hazelton.
"Look at your watches, fellows," Dan continued, "and I think you'll find that it's now proper time for us to go in swimming."
"So it is," Darrin agreed. "Hurrah!"
Little more was said for a few moments. All the fellows of Dick & Co. were busy in getting their clothing off.
"Say, but I hope you fellows get far enough away from your duds!" breathed Teall vengefully, as he watched through the screen of leaves.
"Do you fellows think we had better leave a guard over our clothes?" queried Dick, as they stood forth, ready for swimming.
"Not!" returned Dalzell with emphasis. "If I agreed to it, it would be just my luck to have the lot fall to me. For the next half hour I don't want to do a thing but feel the water around me all the way up to my neck."
"What's the use of a guard over our clothes?" queried Dave. "There isn't another soul besides ourselves in these woods this afternoon."
"Go on thinking that!" chuckled Teall.
Running out on a log and putting his hands together, Dick dived.
"How's the water?" called Tom.
"Cold," Prescott answered, blowing out a mouthful as he struck out for the middle of the pond. "You'd better keep out."
"He wants the pond all to himself," muttered Tom, and dived at once.
In a moment all six boys were in the water, sporting about and enjoying themselves.
"I wish they'd get further away from here," thought Ted wistfully. "They're hanging right around here. If I show myself they'll all swim in. There wouldn't be time to do anything."
All too late Ted heard some one coming through the woods behind him. He crouched, ready to crawl away to privacy, but found himself too late. Hi Martin parted the bushes as be forced his way through.
"Hello, Teall," called the North Grammar captain.
"Hush—-sh—-sh!" warned Ted, putting a finger to his lips.
"What's the matter?"
"Prescott and his crew are out there swimming, and their clothes are right below."
"I see," nodded Martin. "You want to get the clothes?"
"Sit down here, out of sight, and keep quiet, won't you?" urgedTeall.
Hi sat down quietly. He didn't like Teall especially, but he disliked Prescott, and perhaps here was a chance to serve Dick's discomfort.
"If they'd only swim away for a little stretch!" whispered Ted.
"I see," nodded Hi Martin rather pompously. "Too bad, isn't it? Now, Teall, you and Prescott both come from mucker schools, and I don't know that I ought to butt in any. But I don't mind seeing you torment Prescott a bit. You wait. I'll go in, and maybe I can challenge those fellows to swim down the pond that will take them away from this point."
Ted's face had flushed sullenly at Hi's remark about "mucker schools."At another time Teall might have been ready to fight over aslighting word like that. Just now, however, he craved help againstPrescott more than anything else.
"All right," urged Ted. "You decoy that crowd away from here for a few minutes, and maybe I won't do a thing to them!"
"I'll see what I can do for you," returned Martin, going down to the edge of the pond.
"How's the water, fellows?" called Hi.
"Fine," returned Dick with enthusiasm.
"Room enough in the pond for another?" Hi asked.
"Surely. Come on in."
"I believe I will," Hi answered, seating himself and fumbling at his shoe-lacings.
A couple of minutes later Hi dived from the log and swam out to the other boys.
"Are you fellows any good on swimming distances?" Martin asked, as, with lazy stroke, he joined Dick & Co. The North Grammar boy was an expert swimmer and proud of it.
"I guess we can swim a little way," Prescott replied. "I don't remember that we ever swam any measured courses."
"Can you swim down to that old elm?" asked Hi, indicating a tree at the further end of the pond.
"We ought to," smiled Dick.
"Come along, then," invited Hi, starting with a side stroke.
Dick & Co. started in irregular fashion, Darrin and Reade soon spurting on ahead of Martin.
"How long can you tread water?" inquired Hi, after they had reached the neighborhood of the elm.
This sport is always interesting to boys who are good swimmers.Forthwith some endurance tests at treading were started. ThenHi showed them all a few "stunts" in the water, some of whichDick & Co. could duplicate easily, and some which they could not.
Thus the minutes slipped by. Hi, for once in his life, went out of his way to be entertaining to Central Grammar boys. But, at last, he muttered to himself:
"I guess Teall has had plenty of time for his tricks. If he hasn't, then all afternoon wouldn't he time enough."
"Hello, Hi," called Dick. "Where are you going?"
"Back to dress," Martin replied. "I've been in long enough."
"I guess we all have," Dick nodded, himself turning back. His chums followed.
"I don't know whether I'll dress or not," remarked Tom Reade, as he shot ahead of the others. "If I find I don't want to dress, then I'll just sit on the bank and dry my skin before going in again."
Continuing his spurt, Tom kept on until be reached the log from which the first diving had been done. He waded ashore, looked about in some bewilderment, and then called over the water:
"Say, fellows, just where was it that we left our clothes?"
"Why, barely a dozen feet back of the log," Dick called from the water.
"Hardly ten feet from where my clothes lie," added Hi Martin, his face solemn, but with an inward chuckle over the rage of six boys that he knew was soon to follow.
"But where are your clothes, Martin?" asked Tom, staring about him. "Where is anybody's clothes?"
The look in Hi's face changed rapidly. He took a few swift, strong strokes that bore him to shore.
Then, indeed, Martin's wrath and disgust knew no bounds. For his clothing was as invisible as that of the Central Grammar boys.