As the Field Club team took the places of their opponents in the field, there was a good deal of cheering and stamping from the grand stand, but a noticeable silence from the occupants of the bleachers. Evidently the miners did not propose to waste their breath on the opposing nine.
With the hand on the big clock in the clubhouse tower creeping toward the half hour, the fans began to grow impatient. There was much shuffling of feet, catcalls and shrill whistles arose and mingled with them, cries of:
“Get a move on!”
“Get busy!”
“Play ball!”
At exactly three-thirty, the fellows raced in from the field, and the two captains got together with the umpires for the toss. The Field Club men won, and promptly took the field again amidst a roar of approval from the crowd.
The first man up was Jimmy Rooney, the Mispah catcher, a short, stocky, muscular fellow, with reddish hair and a mass of freckles. As he walked to the plate a cheer went up from the bleachers, which was quickly stilled as the umpire tore off the wrappings from a ball and tossed it to Dick.
“Play ball!” he called.
The Yale man caught it in his left hand and toed the rubber. Buckhart crouched and gave the signal for an outcurve, and the next moment the ball left Merriwell’s hand.
“Ball one!” yelled the umpire.