"Prescott's fellows are playing some ball," declared Bill Rodgers.

"Hub! You mean that the Souths don't know how to play," sneered Hi Martin.

"Teall's fellows are playing well," argued Rodgers. "If you watch, you'll see that the luck of the Centrals depends a lot on the way they run the bases. Whew! They go like greased lightning when they're sprinting around the diamond."

"Well, why shouldn't they run?" demanded Hi. "Prescott and his fellows have been running every day since the snow went away."

"I wish our Norths had been running all the time, too," sighed Bill.

The Souths were playing desperately well in the field. d.i.c.k's side came in for the ninth, but did not succeed in getting another run.

"Now, watch 'em closely, fellows," counseled d.i.c.k, as, from the benches, he started his men out to the field. "The Souths are mad and game, and they may get runs enough in this last half to beat us. Play, all the time, as if you didn't know what it was to be tired. Keep after 'em!"

d.i.c.k struck the first South Grammar fellow out. The next man at bat took first on called b.a.l.l.s. The next hit a light fly that was good for a base. The player who followed sent a bunt that Dave, as short-stop, fumbled. And now the bases were full.

"Oh, you Ted!" wailed the South fans hopefully. "Do your duty now, Teall!"

Ted gripped the bat, stepping forward. As he reached the plate he shot at his schoolmates a look of grim resolution.

"I'll bring those three fellows in, if I have to kill the ball, or drive it through a fielder!" muttered Ted resolutely. "If we can tie the score then we can break this fearful hoodoo and win the game yet."

"Don't let that pitcher scare you, Ted!" yelled a South encouragingly.

"He hasn't a wing any longer. It's only a fin."

"Codfish fin, at that," mocked another.

"Bang!" retorted a dozen Central fans.

Before the answering chorus could come d.i.c.k Prescott held up a hand, looking sternly at his sympathizers.

"Strike one!" called the umpire, and once more Teall reddened.

"I've got to brace, and work myself out of this," groaned red-faced Teall. "There's too much depending on me."

"Ball one!"

"Now, I hope the next one will be good, and that I can hit it a crack that will drive it into the next county," muttered Ted, feeling the cold sweat beading his forehead.

He judged wrongly, on a drop ball.

"Strike two!"

"Drive a plum into that pudding in the box, Ted," sang out one of his cla.s.smates.

"Ow-ow-ow!" shrieked a score of watching Central Grammar boys.

That was the last straw. Ted felt the blood rush to his head and all looked red before him.

"Strike three! Side out! Game!" came slowly, steadily from the umpire. Then the score-keeper rose to his feet.

"Central Grammar wins by a score of three to nothing."

This time Ted Teall didn't throw his bat. Gripping it savagely, he stalked over to a group of his own schoolmates.

"What fellow was it that started the yelling?" demanded Ted huskily.

"Why?" challenged three or four of the Souths.

"I want to know who he is---that's all," muttered Ted.

In a moment there was a mix-up. But Teall wasn't popular at that moment. A captain who had led his men into a whitewash was ent.i.tled to no very great consideration.

"Let go of that bat!" roared Ted, as he felt it seized. "Let go, or I'll hit some one with it."

"That's what he wants to do anyway," called out one of the boys.

"Yank it away from him!"

The bat torn from him, Ted Teall was fighting mad. He was so ugly, in fact, that he was borne to the ground, three of his own cla.s.smates sitting on him.

"You're all right, Ted," announced one of his cla.s.smates. "All that ails you is that you've got a touch of heat. Cool off and we'll let you up."

"There's one guyer who has lost his hold on his favorite pastime of annoying other people," remarked Tom Reade grimly.

"d.i.c.k's trick was the slickest that ever I saw done in that line,"

chuckled Dave Darrin. "But I wonder how our fellows tumbled to the idea of calling 'bang' first, and then following it up with 'ow-ow-ow'?"

"Want to know very badly?" Tom questioned.

"I surely do," Darry nodded.

"Well, then," Tom declared, "I put some of the fellows up to that trick."

Chapter VIII

TWO RIVALS PLAN DIRE REVENGE

"I wonder what Ted Teall will do after this when he wants to play rattles on the other side?" inquired Harry.

d.i.c.k & Co. were now making the most of Sat.u.r.day afternoon. Having no money to spend, and no boat in which to enjoy themselves on the river, they had gone out of Gridley some distance to a small, clear body of water known as Hunt's pond.

When sufficient time after dinner had pa.s.sed, they intended to strip and go in swimming, for this pond, well in the woods, was, by common understanding, left for boys who wanted to indulge in that sport.

"I don't believe Ted will get very funny, in the immediate future,"

replied Tom reflectively. "His fellows came to the field, all primed with a lot of funny remarks they were going to shoot at us during the game. Yet the only fellows who got hit by any flying funny talk were the Souths themselves. I have been wondering if 'Bang---ow-ow' was what cost the Souths the game?"

"I don't quite believe that," replied d.i.c.k. "Yet I am certain that it took a lot of starch out of Ted himself. Do you remember that time when he went over and spoke to his fellows?"