“I’ll back Bobby against the bunch,” said Howell Purdy loyally. “He’s beaten them before and he can beat them again.”
“Don’t be too sure,” laughed Bobby. “There’s nothing certain in baseball, and they’re a pretty husky bunch to stack up against. Whenever we’ve beaten them we’ve known at least that we’ve been in a fight.”
“We sure have,” agreed Perry Wise, a fat boy who had been nicknamed “Pee Wee” in sarcastic reference to his size.
“We,” repeated Jimmy Ailshine, in derision. “Where do you get that ‘we’ stuff? You never caught a ball or hit one in your life.”
“Haven’t I always rooted for the team to beat the band?” asked Pee Wee, in an injured tone. “What would the nine do without somebody to root for it when the pinch comes? As a rooter, I’m a wonder.”
“Sure,” said Mouser soothingly. “And Shiner is wrong when he says you never caught a ball. I saw you catch one last winter—a snowball, right on the end of your nose.”
The boys laughed and Pee Wee glared.
“You fellows stop picking on Pee Wee,” said Billy Bassett. “With all your kidding, there are some things in which he’s away ahead of you boobs.”
“Name them,” demanded Fred.
“For instance,” remarked Sparrow incredulously.