“Hear ’em yell,” remarked Bill.
“Yes, Vandalia is out for blood to-day. Lucky we won the toss, and have the game on our grounds. It’s a good part of the battle.”
The Smith boys were soon out on the diamond with their teammates, doing some hard practice. The crowds increased for not only was there an intense baseball fever in both towns, but, because of the natural rivalry between the places, a game between Freeport and Vandalia, always brought out a record-breaking attendance.
“Play ball!” called the umpire, and the game was on.
It was a hot contest from the very beginning, when Rube Mantell of the Vandalias knocked out a two-bagger with the first ball Bill delivered.
“Oh wow! Pretty one! Pretty one!” yelled the crowd. “That’s a beaut! Take third! Take third!” shouted some enthusiastic one, but the ball was fielded in too quickly.
There was a grim look on Cap’s face as he gave the signal to his brother in the box, and Bill nodded. He struck out the next man, who was a heavy hitter, gave the following player his base on balls, and struck out the third. The succeeding man knocked a hot liner which Pete, at short, stopped, almost at the risk of his life, and a goose egg went up in the first frame for Vandalia.
“Oh, not so bad; eh?” asked Cap, as Bill came in to the bench.
“No, but I nearly had heart disease when Rube whacked it that first time.”
“Aw, that was an accident. He can’t do it again.”