This speech caused Colonel Carson to flush. His hard-lined, unhealthy face took on a most unpleasant aspect.
“Oh, you think you’re smart!” he observed darkly. “Young man, I’ve not forgotten what took place yesterday morning. You’re goin’ to regret it. I intend to make you so sick of this town that you’ll never come back to it.”
“Thanks,” said Merry easily. “The town looks pretty good to me, though—all except the name. Well, you haven’t said whether we’d get that game or not.”
“Of course you’ll get it,” said Colonel Carson. “We’ll run up such a score on you that you’ll quit before the third inning.”
“Thanks again,” and Merry chuckled. “Maybe you’ll change your mind about that. Anyhow, we’ll make you hump.”
“Humph!” grunted the colonel, as if to echo the last word. “Two-thirty this Saturday. I’ll provide the umpires, and they’ll be our regular league men.”
“That suits me,” said Merry, and the two friends took their departure.
Billy stated that there need be no worry about the umpiring, as that end of the league was in good hands, and the umpires were excellent men.
“That’ll help a whole lot, then,” said Merry. “To-day is Wednesday, Billy. We will get started to-morrow morning. Two days of practice looks pretty slim, but I guess we can pull through. Want to get out with your mitt for signal work this afternoon?”
“You bet!” cried Billy excitedly. “And I’ll catch you in a real game—my eye!”