“But our special isn’t due to leave for half an hour,” complained Darrell. “We’re waiting for Sam Morton.”
“Can’t help that. I’ve got to start you off sooner than I expected. There’s been a change in the schedule that I didn’t expect, and if I don’t get you off now I can’t for another hour, as the line to Fayetteville will be blocked.”
“That means we’ll be half an hour later than we expected,” said Darrell. “Well, I suppose we’d better go on. Sam can come by the regular trolley, I guess.”
“Sure, he’ll be in Fayetteville in plenty of time,” suggested the inspector. “I’ll be here and tell him about it.”
There was no other way out of it, and soon the team and the substitutes, with the exception of Sam, were on their way. There was quite a crowd already gathered on the Academy grounds when they arrived and they were noisily greeted by their opponents as well as by some of their own “rooters.” The Academy lads were at practice.
“They’re a snappy lot of youngsters,” commented Darrell, as he watched them.
“Yes, we won’t have any walk-over,” said the captain.
The Silver Star lads lost no time in getting into their uniforms. Tom gave Joe’s arm a good rubbing and then he caught for him for a while until Joe announced that, aside from a little soreness, he was all right.
“Try it with Ferguson now,” ordered Darrell, motioning to the regular catcher, and Joe did so, receiving compliments from the backstop for his accuracy.