"Prescott! Holmes!"
Sweet music, indeed, to the Army battery. But Greg heard it on the wing, so to speak, for at the changing of the sides he had hastened forward, so as to pass Dan Dalzell:
"Danny boy, after the game, I want you to do something big for me," whispered Cadet Holmes.
"Surely," murmured Dalzell. "What shall it be?"
"I think I know how you get that grin of yours, that conquering grin on your face, but I wish you'd show me how you make it stick!"
"Call you out for that some day," hissed Dalzell, as, with heightened color, he made his way to catcher's post of duty behind the plate.
Dave Darrin received the ball, and handled it, after the ways of his kind, for a few seconds, to detect any irregularities there might be to its surface or any flaws in its roundness.
"Play ball!" called the umpire.
With Beckwith holding the stick, and Durville on deck, Dick had time to do what he was most anxious to do—-to make a study of any new things that Darrin might have learned.
Dave appeared to be fully warmed at the start. "Strike one!" called the umpire, though Beckwith had not dared offer.