“A beaut!” cried Tom. “Give me some more that way, and you’ll have the man out.”
“Say, what are you fellows doing?” demanded a voice, and the two chums looked up to see Hiram Shell gazing at them with mingled expressions on his fleshy face.
“Oh, having a little practice,” replied Joe easily. The feeling between himself and the bully had nearly worn off, and they were on speaking, if not on friendly terms.
“Practice for what?” demanded Hiram.
“Well, the baseball season opens pretty soon,” went on Joe, “and Tom and I sort of felt the fever in our veins to-day. Want to have a catch?”
“No,” half snarled Hiram. “Say, did you fellows play ball before you came here?” he demanded.
“Sure,” put in Tom. “Joe was one of the best pitchers on the Silver Stars.”
“The Silver Stars? Never heard of ’em!” sneered Hiram.
“Oh, it was only an amateur nine,” Joe admitted modestly. “Tom here was first baseman, and we had some good country games.”