“I guess so.”
“Then let’s do it. The Resolute team is still in existence, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I haven’t kept much track of them. I’ve been away most all Summer, you know.”
“And so have I, but I think we could get up a game for Saturday. I believe we could get quite a crowd, but we wouldn’t charge admission. What do you say?”
“I’m with you. It would be sport to have a game. I wonder how we can arrange for it?”
“I’ve got to go over to Rocky Ford for dad to-day,” went on Joe, “and I’ll see if I can’t get in touch with some of the Resolutes. It may be that they have a game on, and, again, they may have disbanded. But it’s worth trying. Then you see as many of the fellows here as you can, and get up a nine. There ought to be five or six of the old Silver Stars around.”
“I’ll do it! Wow! It will be sport to get on the diamond again before we have to buckle down to the grind.”
“I hope I haven’t forgotten how to pitch,” went on Joe. “Let’s get a ball and do a little practising out in the lots.”
The two chums, somewhat older, more experienced and certainly better players than when we first met them, three years before, were soon tossing the ball back and forth, Joe warming up to his accustomed work as a twirler.
“That was a beaut!” exclaimed Tom, who was catching.