“Sure! The kid’s a ballplayer, that’s what he is. He’ll come; won’t you, Tom?”
“If you want me,” said Tom.
“We sure do! Wish you might have played all summer with us,” replied White. “You’ve got a fine eye for the ball. That two-bagger of yours was as clean a wallop as I’ve seen for a long time!”
“And that red-headed pitcher of theirs,” sighed Thorny, “was no cinch! I couldn’t find him at all!”
“We’re going over by trolley at half-past one,” said White. “Meet at Main and Ash, Pollock. Don’t be late, will you?”
[CHAPTER XI]
THE BLUES VISIT LYNTON
The Lynton team still fought under the high school banner, although, like the Amesville team, it had been weakened by the absence of several of its good players. Few if any of the ten youths who journeyed to the neighbouring town that Saturday afternoon expected to win the game, for earlier in the year the Lynton team had defeated them quite decisively; and at that time they had possessed all the strength of the regular high school line-up, whereas to-day the nine was rather a makeshift affair.
But, after all, the main thing was to play baseball and have a good time, and, consequently, it was a happily irresponsible group that took possession of the two last seats of the big yellow electric car at Main and Ash streets at twenty minutes to two and went whizzing across country at a good thirty miles an hour, swaying and bouncing along an air-line track that dipped into vales and climbed hills with a fine disregard of grades.