A feeling of tense excitement was in the air; and when the "outlaws" presently left off work and sauntered nonchalantly over toward home plate this feeling found expression in curious murmuring sounds.
The "Hopes" disposed their forms comfortably on the turf, or sat astride the soapboxes which had aroused Victor Collins' curiosity.
From the players' bench the regulars keenly watched the work of the visitors.
"They seem to have a lot of steam," remarked Steele, reflectively. "See the big chap over there in left field. That's 'Pinky' Crane—plays at first. I've met him. He's the captain. Nice chap, too."
"At one time, waiting for the game to start would have made my nerves rather shaky, Bob," Charlie Blake was saying. "Thank goodness I've a better grip on myself now. Honest, though, I might have dropped out but for you and Dave. In those days I often wished I had Tom's spunk."
The muscles around Tom Clifton's mouth twitched. His thoughts flew back to the night when he had almost shown the white feather himself.
"Gee—if I had!" he murmured. Then, aloud: "What's that, Dave?"
"We want to play such a lively, snappy game that the Rockvilles will be kept on the jump every second," said the editor of the "Reflector." "You've gotten down those base-stealing stunts pretty fine, Tom. Try 'em for all you're worth."
"I've got 'em right down to the ground," chuckled Tom. "Ah, but that was certainly a pretty catch!"
One of the Rockville players had nipped a high fly and returned the ball to the first baseman.