Yet, for Dick & Co., the adventure of the afternoon before dropped very quickly into the background.  Here was Monday; on Wednesday the boys of the Central Grammar must meet the boys of the North Grammar on the diamond.  Then the first of a series of baseball games was to be played for the local Grammar School championship.  The South Grammar would also enter a nine.

Intense rivalry prevailed between the schools.  The fact that the respective nines were made up almost wholly of boys who were soon to be graduated from the Grammar Schools did not in any sense lessen the rivalry.  Each young player was proud of his own school and anxious to capture the laurels.

“Are you going to win Wednesday’s game from the North Grammar, Dick?” asked Len spencer, when that reporter met Prescott on Main Street at noon on Monday.

“Of course we are,” Dick replied instantly.

“You seem very positive about it,” quizzed Len.

“That’s the only way to go into athletics,” claimed Dick.  “A team must enter with the determination and the knowledge that it is going to win.  Then there’s little left to do but to walk home with the victory.”

“But Hi Martin was telling me, this morning, that Central hasn’t a ghost of a show against North,” pursued Len.

“Hi Martin will know better, day after tomorrow, won’t he, Dave?” queried Dick, appealing to Darrin, who had just come along.

“He surely will,” nodded Dave.

“By the way,” asked Len, “have you seen any of the new uniforms of the North Grammar?”

“No,” Dick admitted, his face falling a trifle.  “I understand that Martin’s fellows are going to wear pretty dandy uniforms, though.”

“They are,” Len nodded.  “I’ve had a look at the uniform.”

“Well, North Grammar is attended by a lot of sons of pretty well-to-do men,” Dave put in.  “Our boys don’t come from as wealthy families, so we have to be content with less of the showy things in life.”

“What are your uniforms going to be like?” inquired Len Spencer.

“We haven’t any,” Dick replied promptly.

“No uniforms at all?” demanded the “Blade” reporter.

“None at all,” Dick continued.  “Neither have the South Grammar boys.  In the glories of uniform the North Grammar nine will be all in a class by itself.”

“It’s too bad,” muttered Len.

“No, it isn’t,” Prescott retorted.  “We fellows from Central are going to show that uniforms don’t necessarily make players.  We don’t mind—–­that is, not very much—–­the absence of uniforms.”

“We’ll try to show that we have something uniform about our team play, and let it go at that,” said Dave cheerily.  “Come along, Dick, or we’ll be late at school.”

Away the pair raced.  Lessons went about as usual that afternoon with Old Dut’s class, which was surprising, as nearly every boy in the room had his mind much on baseball.