"Well, boys," he exclaimed, "I must leave you, and you can bet your high monkey munk, as friend Merrifield says, that I will do all that lays in my power to uphold the honor of old England, and the flag that for a thousand years has braved the battle and the breeze."
Waving his arm grandly he quitted the apartment, and making all his preparations, started for the place appointed for the match.
The Blue Stockings were a pretty strong team and had beaten the Reds the year previously, but it was said the Reds had improved greatly, and a spirited contest was expected.
Mr. Mole knew nothing whatever about the game, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut, until he was spoken to.
His side lost the choice of innings and had to take the field.
The professor became much interested in seeing the men run from base to base, and did not look out keenly enough.
What was the consequence?
A ball struck him with fearful force below the knee.
He ought to have stopped it or caught it, but he didn't, and he fell to the ground with a broken leg.
"Oh! oh!" he cried, "I'm killed."