Every one had forgotten their fears, under the magic influence of the ball park. And every one had raised the price of a seat. By general consent, it was the largest crowd that the Carsonville park had ever held.
Every man on the two teams was known personally to the fans, except Merriwell and Clancy. Even they were known by reputation, though few of the townsfolk had dared to show support by watching the Clippings practice.
The line-up of the two teams was announced that morning by bulletin:
CLIPPINGS.
McCarthy, 3d b.
Nippen, c. f.
Clancy, 1st b.
Merriwell, p.
McQuade, c.
Spaulding, 2d b.
Moore, l. f.
Henderson, r. f.
Newton, ss.
CLIPPERS.
Fletcher, c.
Burkett, 1st b.
Bangs, 3d b.
Ironton, ss.
Johnson, r. f.
Murray, 2d b.
Carson, p.
Runge, l. f.
Merrell, c. f.
The diamond was in perfect condition, its caretaker having spent all morning getting it in shape. Every line was freshly marked, every inch carefully raked free of hindrances. The very sight of it was a joy to the fans, empty though it stood.
And it was joy to Merriwell and Clancy, also, when they arrived at the clubhouse beneath the grand stand. Both had been too busy to look at the place, but they were instantly delighted by it. Meantime, the Hornet proceeded around to the field with Mrs. McQuade and Jim Spaulding’s young brother.
“It’s a peach of a place, Chip!” cried the red-haired chap.
“Yes—look at that diamond! I don’t remember when I’ve seen a better cared-for place.”
Merry continued his inspection as the rest of his team poured in to dress. There were bleachers behind first and third, all well filled, and the only symptom of neglect was in the high board fence. Directly behind second, in the center fielder’s territory, there was a strip of fence ten feet wide that had been leveled. This, it appeared, had been cut out to erect a large score board, but there had been delay in the shipment of materials, and the gap was unfilled.