“Halt!” commanded Captain Hi Martin.  Then he looked around curiously.

“If the Centrals are here yet, why don’t they come out of the crowd and receive us?” inquired Martin rather pompously.  His insinuation that Dick’s fellows might be mixed with the crowd was a slur on the Central boys not possessing uniforms.

“Our fellows are not here yet, but they will be soon, you bet,” called back a Central boy.  “It’s only twenty minutes past four.”

“Spread out, men, and practice,” directed Hi Martin.

“Yah! yah!” jeered a Central boy.  “Get all the practice you can—–­you’ll need it.”

“These ragamuffins are pretty full of brag,” observed Hi scornfully to one of his lieutenants.

“They’re just the kind of fellows that always do brag,” returned the player addressed.  “Their brag will all be gone within a half an hour.  You’ll see.”

“Yes,” agreed Hi thoughtfully.  “If we can’t trim this crowd to-day, then they’re some wonders at ball.  They don’t have any idea how long we’ve been training in order to give them this trimming.”

Some of Hi’s players had already spread out over the field, and were doing some rapid passing.  Certainly Hi’s fielders promised well, from the little glimpse of their skill that was now had.

Then one of their best batsmen took up the willow, driving a few long, swift fielders.

“This will get the Centrals nervous before they start, if they see any of our work,” laughed one of Hi’s players.

Truth to tell, the North Grammar boys did show some pretty work.  Ted Teall looked on approvingly.

“Prescott has met his match to-day,” remarked Ted to a friend.

“These Norths will bother you, too, won’t they, Ted?”

“Us?  No; not a bit.  We can play all around the Norths.  But Central will have to take third place when the series is done.”

“The Centrals haven’t got rattled and skulked, have they?” called Hi Martin at last.

A disdainful yell came back from the assembled Central boys.

“Then some one hurry over and tell ’em that it’s time to hustle on to the field and take their medicine,” urged Hi.  “We don’t want to have the game called for darkness before we’re half through.”

“The Centrals will be here on time,” called back one of Old Dut’s boys.  “Don’t you worry any about them.  Dick Prescott is holding the watch over our crowd.”

“It’s four twenty-seven,” announced Hi, consulting his gold watch.

“Four twenty-five and a half,” corrected a Central boy.

“Go get your watch fixed,” retorted Hi scornfully.  “And some one else run and see if he can find out where the Centrals are hiding.”

“Here they come!” yelled one excited Central boy.  “Whoopee!  They will answer for themselves!”

In an instant the Central cheering became tumultuous.  Even Ted Teall rubbed his eyes and gasped.