With the exception of Merry, the whole team seemed growling and snarling all at once.
Underneath it all, however, Frank saw the real true spirit that longs for victory. They were not really malicious, but each man was to do his level best and to have every other man do the same.
“We lost the game, fellows, and it’s no use to kick,” said Merry. “I think every man did his best. I know I did. It was poor enough. We’ll have to swallow defeat and go out for the next game we play.”
“It would be different if we could get another crack at these fellows,” muttered Ready, all his usual flippancy gone.
“We’d eat ’em!” roared Badger fiercely.
“You’d have quite a job with that man Wolfers on the pitcher’s plate,” said Merry. “He’s the cleverest twirler we’ve encountered this season.”
“But he knows he’s good,” rumbled Browning. “That’s what’s the matter with him. He keeps boring it into the opposing players.”
“For the purpose of rattling them. That’s a part of his game. A man as clever as he is don’t need to resort to that trick; but Wolfers does it. He learned it in the small leagues and independent teams. He’ll get over it if he gets into fast company.”
“We ought to haf peen fast enough vor him,” said Hans. “Didn’t dot pall hit me righdt indo der handts uf Dinker? I hat id lapeled four pases vor. Id peen roppery for der pall der catch him dot vay.”
Again Hans seemed on the verge of shedding tears.