“Sure thing,” agreed Peaches.
“Yet we’re going to need a new pitcher,” went on Teeter. “Probably two of ’em?”
“How’s that?” asked Tom interestedly.
“Why Rutherford, our star man of last year, graduated, and he’s gone to Princeton or Yale. Madison, the substitute who was pretty good in a pinch game, graduated, too; but we thought he was coming back for an extra course in Latin. I heard to-day that he isn’t, and so that means we’ll have to have two new box-men. There might be a show for Joe.”
“Forget it!” advised Peaches. “Not the way Hiram and Luke feel. They went off by themselves right after supper to-night, and I heard them saying something about Joe here, but I couldn’t catch what it was. Oh, they’re down on him all right, for Joe backed Hiram to a standstill to-day, and that hasn’t happened to the bully in a blue moon.”
“Oh, well, I guess I can live if I don’t get on the nine my first season here,” spoke Joe. “I’ll keep on trying though.”
Thus the talk went on, chiefly about baseball, and gradually the strawberry pop was lowered in the bottles, and the pie was nearly consumed.
“Guess you had all your trouble for nothing, Teeter,” remarked Tom. “We aren’t going to be interrupted to-night.”
Hardly had he spoken than there was the faint rattle of the door knob. It was as if some one had tried it to see if the portal was unlocked before knocking. Slight as the noise was, the lads heard it.
“Quick! On the job!” whispered Teeter. He crammed the rest of his pie into the fake book, as did the others.