“Ruth and Madge are here,” went on Phil.
“Are they? I wonder if Miss Harrison will come?”
“Guess so. S’pose Sid will be on hand?”
“I doubt it. But come on, let’s have a talk with Leighton and Kerr. They may want to say something.”
The practice went on, the usual conferences took place between captain and captain, manager and manager. Boxer Hall, as the home team, had the privilege of batting last. Batting orders were submitted for inspection, and the umpire took several new balls from his valise, and stripped from them the foil covering. With the exception of Pete Backus in place of Sid, the Randall team was the same that had played the ’varsity games all season, though the batting order was different, Holly Cross leading off, he having improved greatly in stick work. There was no change in the Boxer team, from when she had last played Tom’s men.
The gong rang sharply. The buzzing talk and laughter on the grand stands ceased, as the umpire announced the batteries. There was a moment of consultation among the two nines, and then Stoddard, who was Boxer’s captain that year, motioned to his players to take the field. He donned his mask and protector, and adjusted his big glove. Langridge, with a cynical smile on his face, walked to the pitcher’s box. He threw four preliminary balls to Stoddard, who then signified that he was ready.
“Play ball!” called the umpire, and Holly Cross stepped up to the plate.
Langridge “wound up” and sent in a swift one. Holly did not offer to strike at it.
“Strike wan!” howled the umpire, who was a bit Irish, throwing one arm up in the air. There was an indrawing of breath on the part of the Randall players.
“It was a mile outside,” complained Tom.