But the orange and black predominated even there. It seemed to be everywhere. Princeton had a strong team, and men of good judgment were confident she would start off a winner, flukes not taken into consideration.
Walbert was pale as he faced the first Princeton batter. He had seen long Joe Varney before, and he knew the “gangling” left fielder of the “Tigers” was a “lacer.”
Walbert took a little time to look over the ground near his feet. He planted his toe on the rubber plate, and then wound up with an eccentric movement of the arm, and shot in a “twister.”
Varney went after the very first one, and got it!
Crack!—and away flew the ball toward right field, while the Princeton lads opened up at the crack of the bat.
“Hurrah! hurrah! Tiger—sis-s-s! boom! ah!”
It was a hit. Everybody saw that in a moment, for Hal Faunce could not gather it in, although he sprinted for it.
Down to first raced Varney. He was an exuberant fellow, and he flapped his long arms, like the wings of a rooster, and crowed hoarsely as he stood on the bag.
That caused another roar to go up. Coachers were on hand, and they began rattling off their talk as soon as the ball was returned to the pitcher.
Walbert tried to grin derisively, but there was a sick expression on his face.