“I stand corrected, gentlemen. Anyway, it was a peach of a game, all right. I hope we’ll have as much fun this time. I suppose Mort Prince will pitch for them.”
“They haven’t any one else that I know of,” said Sam.
“Well, he’s pitching pretty good ball this Spring so far,” said Dolph. “But I guess we’ll have the better of the pitching argument with you in the box.”
“They’ve got some good batters, though,” replied Sam. “Gus Turnbull, Tyler Wicks, Dick Furst; Prince himself isn’t so bad with the ash.”
“I’m not afraid of what they can do with the bat,” said Ted. “It’s their schemes for breaking up the game that worry me. They’ll probably spring something brand new on us this time.”
“Well, we’re going to do a little rough-housing ourselves,” Sam smiled. “About ten of the fellows will be there with tin horns and a drum and a broken-winded cornet, and they ought to make some sensation!”
“Bully!” laughed Ted. “Music will be rendered by the Boarders’ Cornet Band!”
“Executed, you mean,” said Dolph. “Well, then, this batting list is all right, you think?”
“Sure,” said Sam.
“Don’t see how we can better it,” remarked Ted.