The long expected day arrived at last, and all Rockledge turned out to see the game. The stand was full, and Dr. Raymond himself, with most of the teachers, sat in a little space that had been railed off and decorated with the Rockledge colors.
The Somerset nine, made up of strong, sturdy looking boys, had come over with a large number of rooters from their town. They were full of confidence, and they went through their preliminary practice with a snap and a vim that showed they were good players.
Frank had watched them as they batted out flies, and noted that several of them were left-handed batters. He held an anxious conference with Mr. Carrier, and then came over to Bobby who was warming up.
“I had expected to have you pitch to-day, Bobby,” he said; “but I’ve just been noticing that those fellows have two or three left-handed batters. Now you know as well as I do that for that kind it’s best to have left-handed pitching. They can’t hit it so easily.”
“Sure,” replied Bobby.
“And so I think I’ll have to put in Hicksley,” continued Frank.
“That’s all right,” said Bobby heartily, “and I’ll be rooting my head off for him to win.”
“You’re a brick, Bobby!” exclaimed Frank. “I was sure you’d understand.”
When the umpire cried: “Play ball!” there was a buzz of surprise among the spectators, when, instead of Bobby, it was Tom Hicksley who picked up the ball and faced the batter.