By the time the cheering had ceased, Fred Ripley, also in uniform, strolled out and walked toward the sub bench.

A hiss greeted Ripley.  It was not loud, nor insistent, and presently died out.  But Fred went as white as a sheet, then, with eyes cast downward, he dropped to his seat at the end of the sub bench.  His chest heaved, for the greeting had unnerved him.

“I wonder why I usually get that sort of thing, while that fellow Prescott has a band to play him in,” muttered Fred.

The bulk of the audience was now quiet, while the three hundred visiting fans roared out one of their school yells.

Then followed a noisy whooping of the Gridley High School yell.

Coach Luce had walked over to a post behind the sub bench.

Umpire Foley, his mask dangling from his left hand, now summoned Purcell and the Gardiner captain.  A coin spun up in the air.  Gardiner’s diamond chieftain won the toss, and chose first chance at the bat.  Purcell’s men scattered to their fielding posts, while the young captain of the home team fastened on his catcher’s mask.

The umpire took a ball from its package, inspected it, then tossed it to Dick Prescott, who stood in the box awaiting it.  There was a moment’s tense expectation, followed by the command that set all the real fans wild: 

“Play ball!”

Gardiner High School had put up a husky young giant who stood beside the plate, a confident grin on his face as he swung the bat.

Dick moistened his fingers.  The batsman saw that, and guessed what was coming.  He didn’t guess quite low enough, however, for, though he stooped and swung the stick lower, the ball went under it by three inches.

“Strike one!” called Mr. Foley, judicially.

An imperceptible signal told Purcell what was coming next.  Then it came—–­a jump ball.  This time Gardiner’s batsman aimed low enough but it proved to be a jump ball.

“Strike two!”

A howl of glee went up from all quarters, save from the Gardiner visitors.

Again Dick signaled.  His third was altogether different—–­a bewildering out-curve.  Gardiner’s batsman didn’t offer, but Purcell caught the leather neatly.

“Strike three, and out!  One out!” announced the umpire.

“Whoop!” The joy from the home fans was let loose.  With a disgusted look, Gardiner’s man slouched back to the players’ bench.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE GRIT OF THE GRAND OLD GAME

In that half of the inning it was one, two, three—–­down and out!

Even Fred Ripley found himself gasping with admiration of Prescott’s wonderfully true pitching.

Yet the joy of the home fans was somewhat curbed when Gridley went to bat and her third man struck out after two of the nine had reached bases.

So the first inning closed without score.  Gardiner had found that Gridley was “good,” and the latter realized that even young Prescott’s pitching could not do it all.