"Not so bad, boys!" he chuckled. "But I hope you don't think we're so easy as that."
"I was never more serious in my life," said Brown, sharply. "This team"—he raised his hand toward the players packed closely about him—"has been selected by the school to represent it. I can prove what I say. If you're ready to start let's hear the word."
"He's always wanting to start something," piped Benny Wilkins from the rear. "Isn't his voice peppery though! Hooray for Brandon!"
"But—but—I don't understand," gasped Ed Barr, quite helplessly. "Why weren't we notified?"
"I take it that you came here to play the Kingswood High baseball team," answered "Crackers," blandly. "Here it is. The students have thrown out an arbitrary lot of players who absolutely refused to listen to reason. They kept on losing game after game until the boys wouldn't stand for it any longer. If you don't believe me take a vote on the question right now."
"That's it—that's it!" cried Owen Lawrence, excitedly. "How many favor the 'Hopes'? And how many the Ramblers?" he called loudly, raising his hand.
A rousing, prolonged yell for the former, which spread like a flash to all parts of the field, carried such a strong indication of the temper of the school that Captain Crane and his men were immediately convinced.
"I don't know about the regularity of this affair," said Crane. "Our crowd didn't come over here to mix up in any row, but to play ball, and we don't care a base hit who takes the field against us. If you chaps are scrapping among yourselves that isn't our business. The boys say your team is the one; so start up the game and show us what you can do."
"Hold on a moment, captain."
Coach Steele, Bob Somers and Dave Brandon in a flying wedge were forcing a passage through the dense mass of humanity.