Part 11 (2/2)
There was a little ripple of surprise. When a soph.o.m.ore goes in for work in the box it is notice that he has a good opinion of his abilities.
A few more names were called off. Then:
”Hazelton?”
”Short stop,” replied Harry, coolly.
”Whew!” An audible gasp of surprise went up and traveled around.
After the battery, the post of short stop is the swiftest thing for which to reach out.
”Holmes?”
”Left field.”
”It's plain enough,” sneered Fred Ripley to the fellow beside him, ”that d.i.c.k & Co., reporters and raga-m.u.f.fins, expect to be two thirds of the nine. I wonder whom they'll allow to hold the other three positions?”
Several more names were called off. Then came:
”Prescott?”
”Pitcher,” d.i.c.k answered, quietly.
A thrill of delight went through Fred. This was more luck than he had hoped for. What great delight there was going to be in beating out d.i.c.k Prescott!
”Reade?”
”Second base.”
”Ripley?”
”P-p-pitcher!” Fred fairly stuttered in his eagerness to get the word out emphatically. In fact, the word left him so explosively that several of the fellows caught themselves laughing.
”Oh, laugh, then, hang you all!” muttered Fred, in a low voice, glaring all around him. ”But you don't know what you're laughing at. Maybe I won't show you something in the way of real pitching!”
”The first Tuesday after the holidays' vacation the squad will report here for gymnastic work from three-thirty to five,” called the coach. ”Now, I'll talk informally with any who wish to ask questions.”
Fred Ripley's face was aglow with satisfaction. His eyes fairly glistened with his secret, inward triumph.
”So you think you can pitch, Prescott?” he muttered to himself.
”Humph! With the great Everett training me for weeks, I'll make you look like a pewter monkey, d.i.c.k Prescott.”
CHAPTER VII
DAVE TALKS WITH ONE HAND
The next afternoon Fred and his father went over to Duxbridge.
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