“I have a feeling—sort of dread—” Doug Danby’s voice dropped. “I believe they’ll try that trick of theirs again today—those two fellows who go after the ‘Prince’—in a different plane. If they do, then—” he did not finish. His voice trailed off.
“And I too have a feeling—” there was a suggestion of hidden knowledge in Johnny Thompson’s voice. “I have a feeling that if those two ill-wishers, who’ve been trying to break up our game every time the ‘Prince’ is on the mound, try any tricks today, they’ll get fooled!”
He cocked his head on one side as he murmured, “Wind’s in the west, what wind there is. Not much of any. Cloudy and damp. Just right, I’d say.”
“Just right for what?” Doug was curious.
“Don’t ask me. Just wait.” Johnny lapsed into silence.
Doug waited, and as he waited he thought. They were long, long thoughts, I assure you. The opening hour for the last game of the season was approaching. Today the championship of the series was to be decided. The crowd exceeded that of any preceding game. Excitement ran high.
Meggy Strawn, garbed in her brightest and best, was already on the sidelines, ready to lead in the cheering. Little wonder that chills and thrills coursed through her. Was this not the greatest day old Hillcrest had ever known? Had not the four thousand dollars been paid in full? Was not the ball park their very own—theirs to have and to hold for many a year? Yea! Yea! And yet there was mystery in the air.
“Something will happen today.” One might hear this whisper in many a corner. “Something strange, perhaps something quite terrible will happen.”
“Would it?” Meg wondered.
In the meantime, on foot, by train, by auto, the crowd continued to pour in.