“Well, you’ll have a little time for practice before the game begins,” remarked Darrell as he and Sam walked toward the diamond. “We’ve got about an hour yet.”
“Are the Resolutes here?”
“They hadn’t come when I passed the grounds a little while ago on my way to see you. I couldn’t imagine what kept you.”
“Well, it was all dad’s fault. Hang it all——”
“Never mind,” broke in Darrell quickly. “Dads are all right as a rule.” He had lost his own father not long since, and his heart was still sore. He could not bear to have any one speak disrespectfully of parents. “I guess we’ll make out all right,” he added.
“Oh, sure we will!” exclaimed Sam, full of confidence. “They won’t have a look in.”
“Well, hurry up and get in some practice with Bart,” advised the manager.
“Who’s going to cover first to-day?” inquired Sam, as they hurried along the streets, which were already beginning to fill with the crowds making their way to the game.
“I think I am for most of the time,” answered Darrell. “George Rankin and I talked it over and decided that would be a good way to lead off. Later, if I find I’m needed on the coaching line, I’ll let Tom Davis take my place.”