“You don’t mean to say you think Morningside will win, do you?” asked Ward Gerard. “You old traitor, you!”
“I shouldn’t be surprised to see our side licked,” replied Tommy calmly. “They’re soft, and Morningside has already played one game with Trinity and trimmed them.”
And as Joe and Tom journeyed to the grounds they heard others say the same thing. Nevertheless, Luke, Hiram and their own particular crowd were very confident.
There was a big attendance at the game. The stands were filled with a rustling, yelling, cheering and vari-colored throng—the colors being supplied by scores of pretty girls, whose brothers, or whose friends, played on either nine.
“Jove! What wouldn’t I give to be booked to pitch to-day!” exclaimed Joe, as he and Tom found their seats, for neither was on the list of substitutes.
“I know how you feel, old man,” sympathized Tom. “But just hang on, and things may come your way.”
“Play ball!” cried the umpire, and the first big game of the season for Excelsior Hall was underway.
That contest is still talked about in the annals of the two schools. It started off well, and Excelsior, first to the bat, rapped out two runs before the side was retired. Then came the first real intimation that the opponents of Morningside were weak in several places, notably in the pitching box, and in fielding and stick-work.
Frank Brown, after striking out two men in succession, and giving the impression to his mates that he was going to make good, and to his rivals that they had a strong boxman to fight against—Frank, I say, literally went up in the air.
He was not used to being hooted at and jeered, and this is just what the Morningsideites did to him to get his “goat.” They got it, for before the first inning closed he had been unmercifully pounded, and four runs were chalked up to the credit of the foes of Excelsior Hall.