“All right, North. If I can only get back on the team I’d do anything!”
“Then it’s settled,” was the reply, and the two cronies walked away together, talking of their mean plot.
Their chance came the next day, when a crowd of the players were returning from the ball field after a practice game.
“Tag, you’re it!” suddenly cried North to Mersfeld, and he began circling about Bill, Pete and Cap, who were walking with Whistle-Breeches.
“Oh, cut it out!” cried Mersfeld, as if in objection, and he tripped North up. The latter in falling made a grab for Bill, as if to save himself, and in an instant the two went down in a heap and there was a laughing, struggling crowd of youths rolling over the grass in what was apparently a friendly scrimmage.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE GLASSES ARE GONE
“Here get up off me, can’t you?” demanded Bill, as he found himself under North’s no light weight. The latter had his arms around the pitcher.