“Now, play ball,” he called.

“Do it in a hurry,” supplemented Tom Reade.

“Speed is all right,” Dick retorted.  “But we want to play with care, even more than with speed.  The scrub nine will go to bat.”

Dick himself ran quickly out to the pitcher’s box, twirling his ball impatiently.  A High School boy had been secured for umpire, and all was in readiness.

Of course the school nine won over the scrub.  Never mind the score, which looked badly for the scrub.  Dick was satisfied that his nine was doing the best that was in it.

Tuesday afternoon there was more practice, though Captain Dick did not allow it to continue too long.

“Now, don’t take a single chance with yourselves,” called Prescott, in dismissing the squad on the field near the schoolhouse.  “Don’t any one of you get a sore toe or strain a ‘wing’ before to-morrow afternoon.  Fellows, I believe that we are going to be able to put it all over the North Grammar to-morrow afternoon.  But we can’t do it unless we are all in the best of shape.  Be careful at table.  Don’t any one of you overeat between now and the game.  And all get into bed early to-night and have a long sleep.”

“I put every young man in this room on honor for to-day,” stated Old Dut, facing his class, the next morning.  “No matter what the disorder or breach of discipline, no boy will be kept in after school this afternoon, for I know that every one of you, whether player or ‘booster,’ wants to be at the inter-school ball game this afternoon.  So remember, young men, that you are all on your honor to-day.  Prove yourselves worthy of it.”

Never had discipline been better preserved in the eighth grade classroom than during that day.

Soon after four o’clock scores of Gridley schoolboys had found their way to the big vacant field not far from the Central Grammar, the owner of which permitted its use freely by schoolboy athletes.

The principal of the South Grammar, too, was there, flanked by rough-and-tumble Ted Teall and the South’s baseball delegation.  Captain Ted had to play the Centrals on Saturday, and he wanted to view their style.  Though North Grammar was well represented, the principal of the school did not appear, being “detained by pressure of important duties.”

“Old Dut will know enough to be here,” remarked one of the Central boys proudly.  “Nothing but disaster could keep him from showing interest in our work.”

Cheering was started by a big group of North Grammar boys.  A stage had just been sighted, and this bore the North Grammar’s diamond champions.  A few moments later the stage drew up at the edge of the field, and Hi Martin and his fellows piled out, each proudly resplendent in showy uniform of red and white, with red caps and stockings.  The North Grammar boys were dandies, and they appeared to want, everyone to realize the fact.  They formed at the roadside and marched on to the field in step.