“Not if it’s time to begin playing,” Dick answered.

“Yes; it is.  I’ll call Martin, and you two will attend me for the pitch of the coin.”

“Wait a moment, please,” called Hi, from across the field.

“What’s the matter?” shouted a spectator.

“The North Grammars want to go home and change their uniforms,” shouted another onlooker.

There was a great laugh at this, which caused Hi Martin to color and look belligerent.  He came stalking across the field.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” shouted Ted Teall, affecting the manner of an announcer, “I beg to state that the game about to begin will be between two famous nines, known as the Gentlemen and the Chromos.”

At this there was more laughter, while Hi Martin shook with rage.  Looking at the bright red so prominent in the North Grammar uniforms, there could be no doubt as to which nine had been dubbed the “Chromos.”

“Mr. Umpire,” called Hi angrily, “have you power to preserve order here to-day?”

“I’ll do my best,” agreed Tozier.  “But this is an open field that any one may enter, and there are no police here.”

“Play ball, you red-heads!” jeered a boy, referring to the bright red caps of the North Grammars.  “Don’t holler for the police until you find out whether you can stand up to the Centrals.”

“Now, let us stop all guying of the players and all other nonsense,” called Tozier firmly, as he held up his right hand.  “Remember that we are here to see a game and not to listen to cheap wit.”

That held the unruly ones back for a few moments.  Tozier drew a coin from one of his pockets, exhibited it to the captains, and asked: 

“Who will call the toss?”

“Martin may,” nodded Captain Dick.

“Ready, then.”

Ben Tozier sent the coin spinning skyward.  When it turned to fall Hi called out: 

“Tails.”

“Heads win,” declared Umpire Tozier.

“Captain Martin, have you any choice?” inquired Prescott politely.

“I didn’t win the toss,” Hi returned sulkily.

“But we’ll give you your choice if you have any,” Dick insisted.

“We’d rather go to bat,” Hi observed.

“Then, Mr. Umpire,” continued Dick, turning to Tozier, “the Centrals choose the field.”

“Get to your places,” nodded Ben.  “Martin at bat; Percival on deck,” called the score-keeper.

Dick ran down to the pitcher’s box, while Greg, slipping on mask and glove, took up his position behind the plate.

Tozier carelessly broke the seal on the package enclosing a ball, inspected it, and dropped it into Dick’s hands.  Dick threw an overshoot to Greg, who mitted it neatly.

But Ted Teall could not let the occasion go by without some nonsense.

“Whack!” shouted Teall.  “Woof!  Did you hear it strike?  And it hurt, too.  Who has the arnica bottle?”

There was laughter, but Dick ignored it, sending in a neat drive over the plate.  Greg caught it and sent the ball back.