"Pretty play, old man!"
These and many other cries greeted his performance.
"And he said he could only play a little," mused Frank. "I guess it's Billy for the main nine, all right."
Frank's side came to bat. Quite a fringe of student spectators had gathered to watch the game, and there were also some town lads and men from Riverview, for the gates to the ball field were not closed, and anyone might come in.
Billy Chase went to bat first. As he took his place the opposing catcher signalled that he wanted a few practice balls. Billy stepped away from the plate.
A moment later he started violently, and Frank, who saw him, looked to note the cause.
On the outer edge of the crowd of spectators Frank saw a man standing regarding Billy with an earnest gaze. He was a man of powerful build—a "Westerner" if such a description is permissible—a man with a very black beard. As Frank looked at him he thought of the false black beards he and his chums had worn the night of the hazing. This man's beard was exactly like them, and yet it was obviously not false.
FRANK SAW A MAN REGARDING BILLY WITH AN EARNEST GAZE.