"Ha, ha!" chuckled Tom Clifton. "It will take more'n Tony Tippen's pitching to win this game. You can bet we'll get on to his curves before long. Who's up—you, Blake? Don't let Nat rattle you. He's beginning his holler already."
Charlie selected his favorite bat. He reflected that when Nat Wingate tried to rattle a fellow he generally made a pretty good job of it. He tried to deaden his ears to the sarcastic quips which the captain of the Stars was now hurling toward him.
"It's easy, Tippen!" bawled Nat. "He couldn't hit a stuffed pillow. You've got him going."
"I'll bet he'll be going to first the next minute," muttered Tom, hotly. "My, I hope we do soak it to this crowd."
"Shoot 'em over—shoot 'em over!" howled John Hackett.
And the imperturbable Tippen did shoot 'em over with a maddening skill and persistency which made the high school rooters fairly gasp.
It seemed but a moment before the players found themselves trooping out upon the field again with a dull and deadly feeling that Tony Tippen was more than living up to his reputation. The crowd, ready to voice its approval or disapproval, yelled earnestly at every opportunity.
It was not until the ending of the fourth inning, however, that the Kingswood rooters had a chance to strain their lungs to the breaking point. Tony Tippen, one of the hardest hitters on the Stars, had reached first in safety.
At the instant "Jack Frost" got into action he was off on a wild break for second.
A yell rose on the air as Big Bill Steever smashed the oncoming sphere, sending it directly toward Third Baseman Fred Benson. Benson's practiced eye told him it would be impossible to catch the runner at second—Tippen's long legs were taking him over the ground at too great a speed.