“Prescott, what do these letters mean on your jersey?” asked Ted Teall, halting and squinting at the golden yellow emblems.

“C.G.?” smiled Dick.  “That’s for Central Grammar, of course.  But the letters have been put on so that they can be easily changed around to read G.C.”

“What’ll that stand for?” quizzed Teall, winking at some of the other fellows.

“Why, we’ll change the letters around after we’ve played this series, and then the letters will stand for Grammar Champions.”

“Oh, I see,” grinned Ted.  “My, but that will be kind of you, to give our fellows the jerseys.”

“You haven’t won them yet,” retorted Dick.  “The Centrals will keep their own jerseys and wear the G.C. by right of conquest.”

“Perhaps they will, and perhaps they won’t,” muttered Hi Martin angrily to himself and Tom Percival.

Chapter VI

SETTLING WITH A TEASER

Saturday morning, about eight o’clock, the entire team of the Central Grammar met at Dave Darrin’s house.  In the front yard they waited for their captain.

“Queer Dick should be a bit late,” muttered Torn Reade.  “He’s our model of punctuality.”

“You’ll see him come around the corner ’most any minute,” Greg predicted.

Nor was Holmes wrong in this.  When Prescott arrived he came on a jog trot.

“We wondered what kept you, our right-to-the-minute captain,” announced Dave.

“Well, you see,” replied Dick quizzically, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Thinking?” repeated Tom.  “Oh, I understand.  You’ve been thinking about what the man on the clubhouse steps said.”

“Well, hardly anything as big as that,” teased Dick.  “I’m afraid that you fellows are growing impatient on what is, after all, not a very important matter.”

“So, then, the speech of the man on the clubhouse steps wasn’t very important?” inquired Tom, seeking to pin their leader down.

“Why, that would depend on how you happened to regard what the man on the clubhouse steps said,” Dick laughed.

“Is that what you’re going to tell us?” almost bowled Hazelton.

“I don’t know that I am going to tell you much of anything,” Prescott continued.

“What did the man on the clubhouse steps say?” asked Dan, advancing with uplifted bat.

“You’ll never drag the secret from me by threats or violence,” retorted Dick, with a stubborn shake of the head.

“We’re getting away from the point,” Tom went on.  “You said you had been thinking.”

“Well?”

“You’ve made the claim of having been thinking, but you haven’t offered the slightest proof.”

“What I was thinking, fellows, was that we are obliged to meet the South Grammar nine on the diamond to-day.”

“We’re not afraid of them,” scoffed Dave.

“No,” Dick went on, “but I’ve an idea that we’re up against an ordeal, after a fashion.  You all know what a guyer Ted Teall is—–­how he nearly broke up our match with the Norths last Wednesday afternoon.”