“Well,” said David slowly, “I do hate to pass a good thing by.”
“He wants a sight of this Lanky Larry,” said Tom. “A good pitcher to Dave is like a red rag to a bull.”
Mrs. Hapgood relieved Tom of the basket. “You boys are native sons,” she said with a smile. “Go along and root for the Tigers.”
Up the road they went until they came to an open field marked out with a baseball diamond. The two automobiles were parked on one side, and on the other was a crowd of boys and girls, interspersed with a few older people. Already some of the Tigers and some of the Amoussocks were knocking out flies to their fielders.
“There’s Lanky, warming up,” said Sandy, pointing to a tall, dark-skinned fellow who was throwing a ball to a catcher in front of the automobiles. “They’re a swell lot, aren’t they? They’ve all got brand new suits this summer, with red and white stockings, and a red A on their chests.”
The Amoussocks did look very trim; more especially in contrast to the native sons, who were dressed in all sorts of suits, the most of them old and mud-stained.
“Here’s Billy Burns,” said Sandy; and as Tuckerman and the three boys went up to join the crowd, Sandy darted away to report himself to his captain.
Billy came up. “Hi, you fellows. What you doing here?”
“Digging clams for bait,” answered David. “Benjie wants to go fishing.”
“Come down to see us smear the strangers?” Billy continued, ignoring David’s joke.