“Are any of you fellows from New York state?” he asked.
“Yes, Len Gardell is from Rochester,” was the answer.
“I come from New York city,” went on Mark. “I’m an old ball player—used to be captain of the Lakeview Academy nine of New Hampshire. We once played a team from Rochester—the Silver Stars. Can I speak to Mr. Gardell? My name is Mark Robertson.”
“Why, certainly, Mr. Robertson,” said the ball player, and held out his hand. “My name is Bob Lee. I’m from Atlanta, Georgia. We put ourselves down as from Florida for we have been playing there—at several of the big hotels.”
And a minute later Mark was introduced to all of the team and made to feel quite at home.
Having finished their chat with Isabel Valois and her companions, the others made their way to the stand and found the seats assigned to them. Soon all of the baseball players were out on the diamond and the game began with the Cuban team at the bat.
“It’s funny Mark doesn’t come,” said Darry. “He always thinks so much of a ball game.”
“He went off to see the players,” answered Frank. He looked toward the “bench.” “I declare there he is now, talking to one of the substitute players!”
“Then he’s at home,” laughed Darry. “You won’t get him back here, unless the umpire drives him from the field.”
When Hockley saw Mark sitting on the “bench” he was green with envy.