“Sure, we are!”
“Beat ’em silly!”
“We won’t do a thing to ’em!”
Dan’s informant grinned and dropped his voice.
“They’ll lick us for keeps, I guess,” he said cheerfully. “Our pitcher’s sick and can’t play. We tried to get Monroe, of Brooklyn; ever hear of him? Well, he’s a dandy, but he wanted more than we could pay. We offered him thirty-five too!”
“But—do the other fellows let you get players from outside?” asked Dan.
“Oh, yes, we get ’em wherever we can find ’em. So does Laurelville. Their pitcher is Somes, of Rockaway, and he’s a dandy. We won’t be able to hit him at all. And they’ve got a catcher, too, that’s just about all right!”
“Where is Laurelville?” asked Bob.
“About four miles farther. You fellows had better come along and see the game.”