“Cheer up, suh!” shrieked the colored boy shrilly.  “I’se bringing yo’ duds!”

Then the ball came from the box, but Hi was demoralized by the roar of laughter that swept over the field.

A moment later the rather haughty captain of the North Grammar nine had been struck out and retired.  His face was red, his eyes flashing.

“Teall, we might expect something rowdyish from your crowd of muckers,” declared Martin scornfully, as the sides changed.

“If I were you, Martin, I wouldn’t do much talking to-day,” grinned Ted.  “It’s bad for the nerves.”

A half a dozen times thereafter the colored boy was seen scurrying with “the duds.”  He took good care, however, to keep away from the foul lines, and so did not come under the orders of the umpire.

Whenever the mascot appeared with his burden he raised a laugh.  Hi could not steel himself against a combination of anger and hurt pride.  Some of the North Grammar girls in whose eyes he was anxious to stand well were among those who could not help laughing at the ridiculous antics of the colored lad.

Toward the close of the first half of the third inning Teall again came to bat.  There were no men out in this inning, and two men were on bases.

“Now we’ll see how you will stand a little jogging,” muttered Hi under his breath as he crossed his hands in signal to some of the North Grammar fans.

Just as Ted picked up his bat a dozen boys squeaked: 

“What time is it?”

This was followed by: 

“Who stole my watch?”

Another lot of North tormentors—–­those who had them—–­displayed time pieces.

“That’s almost as bad as a stale one,” Ted told himself scornfully.

Just then the ball came just where Teall wanted it.

Crack!  Ted hit it a resounding blow, dropped his bat and started to run.  Amid a din of yells one of the Souths came in, another reached third and Ted himself rested safely at second base.

In that inning the Souths piled up five runs.  Thereafter the game went badly for the North Grammars, for most of the players lost their nerve.  Hi, himself, proved unworthy to be captain, he had so little head left for the game.  The contest ended with a score of nine to two in favor of the South Grammars.

“That will be about all for the Norths,” remarked Ted, with a cheerful grin, as be met Hi Martin at the close of the game.  “Your nine doesn’t play any more, I believe.”

“I’m glad we don’t,” choked Hi.  “There’s no satisfaction being in a league in which the other teams are made up of rowdies.”

“It is tough,” mocked Ted.  “Especially when the rowdies are the only fellows who know how to play ball.”

Hi stalked away in moody, but dignified silence.  Yet, though he could ignore the players and sympathizers of other nines, it was not so easy to get away from the grilling of his own schoolmates.