"Dick Prescott certainly stabbed you with that torpedo," grinned
another South. "Ted, your nerve is gone for to-day."
"Don't get too funny with me, or I'll see you after the game,"
threatened Teall, as he stalked away, for he was now on deck,
and due to go next to bat.
The second man for the Souths struck out.
"Teall at bat!" called the score-keeper.
Hi Martin and a lot of the North Grammar boys had come to the
field late. Hi didn't like to see the score two to nothing in
favor of the Centrals. He would have preferred to have the Souths
win.
"Let's get Prescott rattled?" whispered Martin.
"I don't believe you can do it," replied Bill Rodgers. "Prescott
is a mighty cool one."
"Yes, we can," insisted Hi. "I'll tell you what to boiler just
the instant that Teall picks up the stick and Prescott starts
to twist the ball."
Ted, all unsuspicious, and believing that he had stilled his own
band of teasing torments, picked up his bat and went to the plate.
"Put it over the robbers, Ted!" came from Hi Martin's crowd.
"Don't be afraid of the Centrals---the fellows who stole their
uniforms from a lunatic in the woods."
Dick heard the senseless taunt and understood it. But it didn't
anger or confuse him. Instead, the ball left his hand with surer
guidance.
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