And all these floating exclamations came to the ears of Ralph as he stood there near the end of the bleachers and continued to send them in to Paul. He had his teeth set, and was, as far as outward appearances went, as cool as a veteran.
Coach Willoughby, ready for the fray, gave him a signal just then. It signified that there had been sufficient practice, and that he was about to call the start in another minute or two; so Ralph drew on his sweater, not wishing to catch cold, for despite the hot sun there was a cool breeze blowing.
Frank wanted to have a last brief talk with his friend. He knew more about the peculiarities of the Bellport team than Ralph possibly could, and was able to tell him just how some of them could be coaxed to strike at an impossible ball.
“Notice that their captain, Cuthbert Lee, is on his old job to-day at second, in place of Hough. He’s a hard hitter, Ralph, but from what I know of him I think your teaser ball will fetch him. Only don’t use it too often. And if he ever gets on a base keep your eye on him. He’s the fastest runner they have, and can steal bases to beat the band, while the pitcher is winding up.”
“Glad you told me, Frank. After the game wait up for me. I’ve got some grand news to tell you,” observed the pitcher, getting up and discarding his sweater as the loud voice of the old Princeton player, now serving as umpire, was heard saying:
“Play ball!”
Frank took one look at the sparkling eyes of his friend.
“Tell me, is it about that thing?” he asked, eagerly, and Ralph, turning as he started to walk off, nodded his head in the affirmative.
“Bully! You just make up your mind you’re going to win, Ralph. I seem to feel it in my bones you are!” Frank said, confidently.
Ralph picked up the new ball which the umpire had tossed into the box, and sent a few sizzling ones to first base while the balance of the team hurried to their places in the field.