CHAPTER XIV.
HOW THE FIGHT WENT ON.
"The batteries for to-day's game will be: Chenowith and Cummings for Hickory' Ridge; Tubbs and Ballinger for Fairfield!"
The last word of the umpire was drowned in a roar, and the air seemed filled with waving hats, parasols of gaudy hues, handkerchiefs, and anything else that could be utilized for the occasion.
Then came a dead silence. Every eye, doubtless, was at that moment riveted on the young pitcher of the nine in the field as he sent in a few straight ones to his catcher, just to find the plate.
"They say he's got speed to burn," remarked one Basking Ridge spectator who had never before seen Elmer pitch.
"But the best thing he's got is a nasty little slow drop that's running Christy Matthewson a close race," commented a second one.
"Oh, shucks!" laughed a Fairfield boy close by; "wait till you see how our fellows fatten their averages on those nice little drop balloons. We've heard a heap about 'em, and have been practicing at hitting all such. Why, mark my words, before the end of the fifth inning this wonderful Elmer will be so tame he'll be eating out of the Fairfield players' hands."
"Wait and see. The game is young," called another fellow.
"I should say it was, when the first ball hasn't been sent over the rubber yet," declared still a fourth spectator.