"So don't I," growled the other. "The silly chump rushed right between us before we had a chance to move. Gee! Look at him now, chasing that grounder. Guess he thinks he's the whole show. Listen! What's that?"
A loud, discordant yell had blared through a megaphone.
Turning in the direction from whence the sound had come the two saw a small procession of boys headed by Nat Wingate and tall John Hackett approaching. The majority had megaphones, and the din which they produced indicated that all knew how to use them to the best advantage.
On they came, singing a lusty chorus.
"We are ready for the fray!" shouted Nat, at the end of a stanza.
"Rah, rah, rah!" yelled Hackett.
"Bing, bang, boom!" screeched Kirk Talbot. "We're the best bunch in the amateur ranks."
"And we're going to show just how rank you are!" howled Tom.
An approving roar came from the purple and white.
"That's like Nat Wingate—always butting in with a megaphone," exclaimed one of the juniors. "But say, Freddy Sparker, he's just doing it 'cause he thinks he can rattle Somers' crowd; an', take it from me, some of 'em he can."