When they reached the public grounds they found a crowd assembled, and the ball players were already at practice on the green field. There were several hundred Americans present, many in carriages, and among the carriages they discovered the Valois turnout, with Isabel Valois and a number of other young people.
“I thought I’d see you here,” declared the young lady. “No Yankee boy can keep away from a ball game,” and she smiled as she shook hands and was introduced to those she had not before met.
Mark was anxious to see the American players more closely. As we know, he had always been a good ball player and had been the captain of the team at Lakeview Academy, beating Hockley for that position by several votes, much to the bully’s discomfiture. Now he worked his way through the crowd close to the American players’ “bench,” in this case an awning spread to shade a certain spot on the grass to the right of the home plate.
The ball players were all about Mark’s age, one or two a little older, and seemed to be a jolly set. But as Mark came nearer so did one of the team and his face wore a serious expression.
“Ronaldson is no better,” Mark heard him tell the others. “Complains of terrible cramps.”
“Is he going to try to play?” asked one of the other players.
“Yes, but I don’t know how long he will last.”
“Then you’ll have to use Blackney.”
“I suppose so, but he’s got a sore hand and can’t half catch. We need a good man on second base. The Palmas are going to do their best to win this game.”
The talk interested Mark greatly and it aroused the baseball fever in his veins. He caught the eye of one of the players and beckoned to him.