“All right!” they called.
“Kill the umpire!” shouted Dan.
“And I’ll get even with you, Mr. Clinton,” threatened the Doctor. “You’ll never see first when I’m umpiring!”
“He never does see it,” grumbled Tom. “He runs too fast!”
“Well, that’s all settled, then,” said Mr. Clinton when the laughter had subsided. “Now, let’s all get to work and turn out a good team, one that’ll knock the spots off of Wickasaw! And when we can’t find any one else to play, we’ll have some, good games between the first team and the scrub, and I’ll put up some prizes—boxes of candy, or something like that. How’ll that do?”
“Bully, sir!”
“That’s swell!”
“I’m going to play on the scrub!”
And the next afternoon, while the enthusiasm still held, the first practise was held, with almost every boy in camp as a candidate. Nelson turned out with the rest, and even Tom, under the excitement of the moment and with visions of candy before him, essayed to try for the outfield. Dan and Nelson were practically certain of making the first, if only by reason of former experience, for each had played on their class teams at school. The most glaring deficiency was a good pitcher, and the problem of finding some fellow to work with Bob, who was catcher, bothered the latter for some time. In the end a rather likely candidate showed up in the person of Wells, a chunky, snub-nosed senior, who, in spite of the fact that he was rather unpopular, decidedly stubborn, and a bit lazy, gave promise of turning into a fairly good pitcher. Dan was put on first, and soon proved his right to the place. Nelson went into the field, and finally found his position at center. He was a good batsman and a heady base-runner. Tom dropped out of the contest after a day or two, having been thrice struck by the pitcher while unsuccessfully endeavoring to hit the ball, and retired to watch the practise from the spectators’ gallery and nurse his bruises. A series of three games with the rival camp of Wickasaw were arranged for, and five other dates with hotel and camp nines were made. This meant an average of two games a week for the remainder of the season, and Bob got down to hard work. As it proved, it was lucky that the enthusiasm came when it did, and supplied him with sufficient material from which to turn out a team, for shortly afterward a spell of hot weather made its appearance, and while it lasted it was difficult to get any save the members of the camp nine to make the trip to the baseball field. But Bob didn’t let the heat bother him much, and practise was as rigorous as ever. When not enough fellows came out to make up the scrub, Bob held batting and base-running practise instead, until Dan declared that he had lost ten pounds in a week.