When Ted had asked him to pitch for the Chester town team, he had protested that he was only a high school player.  Ted, however, had told him earnestly that many town team pitchers were no better.  Besides, wouldn’t it be fine experience to pitch against stronger batters?  Weeks ago that argument had won, but now Don made a wry face.

“Fine lot of experience it will be if they knock me out of the box,” he said.

The game had been well advertised.  The Chester Chronicle had carried a story, and notices had been chalked on the bulletin board at the railroad station.  Don was sure that there would be quite a crowd.

Nor was he mistaken.  Early as it was when he came to the field, spectators were already gathering.  Ted, a seasoned veteran, was calm and undisturbed, but there was a noticeable tension among most of the other players.  Don sat on the rough bench and waited for the signal to warm up.

Presently the Glenrock players arrived.  He looked at them closely and his nerves jumped.  Gosh! didn’t they look big!  And what big black bats!

“All right, Don,” said Ted.  “Warm up.  Take it easy.  These fellows can strike out and pop up flies just as easily as anybody else.”

Don tried to smile as he took his place.  By this time a solid wall of spectators ran along the base-lines and down toward the foul flags.  There was another gathering under the maple tree; and out in deep center a third group lounged on the grass and waited for the call of “Play ball!”

Don began to throw.  His first few pitches went wide, and Tim glanced at him sharply.  The catcher was almost as cool as Ted, and to show his calmness, he began to toss the ball into the air as he caught it and then catch it again in his bare hand as it came down.

As soon as his arm felt right, Don tried out his curves.  His drop, his best ball, worked nicely, but his in-curve and his out-curve were only fair.  He kept trying them, and became worried, and went back to his drop and found that he had lost his control of this curve, too.  What was the matter?  Was he getting stage fright?

“That’s enough,” called Ted.

He walked toward the bench.  Tim hurried to his side.

“Scared?” the catcher asked.

Don nodded.

“Gee!” said Tim.  “I thought you had more nerve than that.  Just go out there and stick it over.  You don’t see me getting rattled.”

“You don’t have to serve the ball,” said Don.

“No,” said Tim; “but I’m the fellow who has to decide what balls they get.  I guess that’s some responsibility.  You pitch the way I tell you to and we’ll be all right.”

Glenrock was still practicing in the field.  Don sat on the bench and watched.  They handled the ball well, but not any better than Chester.  If their hitting had been overrated—­

“They’re through,” said Ted.  “Come on, Don.  Don’t get excited now.  Watch Tim’s signals and give him what he signals for.  We’re in back of you.”