But you didn't give them any such drubbing as
the Souths did to-day. Are they a better nine than ours?"
"No," Prescott answered promptly.
"Yet they whipped the Norths worse than we did. Can we down
the Souths?"
"Yes," nodded Prescott.
"Why can we?"
"For the simplest reason in the world, Tolman. We've got to.
Isn't that a fine reason?"
"It sounds fine," remarked another boy doubtfully. "But can you
whip another crowd just because you want to?"
"If you want to badly enough," Dick smiled.
"Hm! I'll be surer about that when I see it done."
"It'll happen next Friday afternoon, if rain doesn't call the
game," Prescott promised.
"What do you say to that, Darrin?" demanded another Central boy.
"Just what Dick said."
"What's your word, Tom!"
"You heard what our captain said," Reade laughed. "I always follow
orders. If Dick Prescott tells me to pile up seven runs against
the Souths I'm going to do it."
"I hope you do," murmured another boy. "Yet it seems against
us---after the way we saw the Souths play to-day."
"Or rather," added Dick quietly, "the way the North Grammars didn't
play. They'd have put up a lot better game if their captain hadn't
lost his nerve and his head."
As the Central Grammar boys left, most of them in one crowd, there
was a rather general feeling that Dick was just a bit too confident.
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