"I will. Did you think I took that journey to Barville on your old motorcycle merely for recreation?"
"Not exactly; I had an idea you went over there to talk with Copley and Roberts for the purpose of finding out how strong the Barville nine really was."
"Well, that was a part of the reason, but not the whole of it. I had something else on my mind. In case I became satisfied that the two teams were pretty evenly matched, I had a little plan through which I felt confident I could make it a dead sure thing for Barville. I was not off my base, either, and it would have worked out charmingly if that big duffer, Lander, hadn't dipped in and messed it for us."
"I'm still in the dark."
"Don't you remember that when I got back I asked you about Eliot's signals to the pitcher?"
"Yes."
"I thought I knew them, but I wanted to be dead sure; for I'd made arrangements with Copley to tip off certain Barville batters who could be trusted to the kind of balls that would be pitched. This was to be done in case the necessity arose, which it did when Oakdale took the lead and Springer seemed to be going well, with every prospect of holding them down. Then I proceeded to get down close to the ropes back of first base, where, by watching, I could come pretty near catching Eliot's signs. Sometimes I couldn't see them distinctly, but almost always I could. I was tipping off the Barville batters when they proceeded to fall on Springer and pound him beautifully. They did so because they knew just the kind of a ball he was going to pitch."
"Great Caesar!" muttered Roy, who was again standing. "You did that? How——"
"Oh, I'm surprised at your dullness," laughed Rackliff. "You heard me coaching. You heard me calling out for the batters to 'get into it,' 'hit it out,' 'drop on it,' 'give it a rise,' and so forth."
"Yes."