"Get out! This is only the fifth game. Aren't there about ten more?"
"To lose—most likely," growled Parks.
"I reckon it'll do Clifton a lot of good. He used to be a regular caution. I was going to nickname him 'Vanitas' a dozen times."
"Just suited to him, too, Checkers," said Aleck Parks. "You've got a wee bit of sense, after all."
"Thanks! I can't return the compliment until I know you a bit better."
"Some awful fresh remarks are being let loose," exclaimed Ted Pollock. "'Vanitas'! That seems to hit Tom's case about right. What inning is this—the eighth?"
"Yes! And it's another case of whitewash," grumbled Parks. "There's our grand editor of the 'Reflector' at bat. Watch him. He's going to swing. Ah——"
"Strike one!" came over the air.
Harry Spearman dug his heel viciously into the yielding turf. The sarcastic looks on the faces of "Crackers" Brown and Owen Lawrence stung his sensitive nature.
"Come on, Dick," he said, in a low tone. "I want to speak to Bob a moment."