"With this ball?" Greg asked, taking it from his friend's hand.
"Yes."
"Hm! I don't see anything about it to shatter the nerves of a hardy youth like Ted Teall," Greg muttered. "This ball is just wound with string and covered with pieces of old glove. Why, it's so soft that I don't believe I could throw it straight."
Greg raised the home-made ball to throw it.
"Here! Don't toss it, or you may put it out of business," objected
Prescott, taking it away from his friend.
"If the ball can't be thrown, then what on earth is it good for?" questioned Darrin.
"I'll come to that by degrees," Dick promised. "Did you know that dad has secured a license this year to sell fireworks at his store?"
"Yes," nodded several of the boys.
"Well, yesterday, Dad had a lot of samples come in from the manufacturers. There were a few of the extra big and noisy torpedoes," Dick explained. "I got one of them and wrapped this string and leather around it."
Then, in low tones, Dick confided to his comrades the use to which he hoped to put the ball. There were a good many grins as the plot dawned on the young diamond enthusiasts.