Between times they got at him for successive drives that netted two and three bases each.  Indeed, in that very first inning the fielders of the home team were kept on the jump at a lively rate chasing smashing blows.  To tell the truth, all three outs were made on enormous flies that seemed to go up almost to the very clouds, and gave “K.K.” out in the middle garden, and “Just” Smith, who had charge of left field, a big run each time before they could get their hands on and hold the ball.

In the second time at bat the visitors did not do as much.  Perhaps Frazer managed to tighten up, and pitch better ball.  He was very erratic, and could never be depended on to do consecutive good work.  In every other inning the heavies could not seem to gauge his work at all, and he mowed them down.  Then they would come at him again like furies, and knock his offerings to every part of the field as though he might be an amateur in the box.

Hugh watched the fluctuations of the game with more or less solicitude.  They could hardly afford to be beaten by a team like Mechanicsburg, he figured, as he saw Frazer “fall down” for the third time, and a catastrophe threaten.

It was the sixth inning.

Scranton had done more or less scoring on her side, so that the figures were mounting rapidly, and it promised to be an old-fashioned batting bee.  It now stood nine to twelve in favor of the visitors; and as they had started another of their rallies no one could say what the result might be by the time Scranton once more came to bat.

There was a small but noisy delegation from the other town present, and they kept things pretty lively most of the time, cheering their fellows, and hooting the slightest opportunity when Scranton failed to connect, or one of the high-school boys did not make a gilt-edged pickup.

Nor were the Mechanicsburg rooters alone in this jeering.  As usually happens, there were a number of fellows in Scranton who entertained feelings of jealousy toward the local nine, based on an idea that they had been purposely overlooked when the choice of players was made.

Chief among these malcontents was the town bully, Nick Lang, whose acquaintance the reader has already made in a previous volume, and under exciting conditions.  Nick at one time had a good chance of making the nine, for he was a hustler when it came to playing ball, and indeed, in nearly every sport; but as might be expected, he managed to display his nasty temper in practice, and Coach Saunders, who heartily disliked and distrusted the big fellow, speedily turned him down.

Nick, as usual, had his two faithful henchmen along with him, Leon Disney and Tip Slavin; and the trio led the hooting whenever a chance came to rub it into Scranton.  Some of the visitors hardly liked this; it smacked too much of rank treachery to please them.  It was all very well for visitors to deride the home team in order to “rattle” the pitcher; but for fellows living in Scranton to indulge in this sort of thing did not seem right.