All of us broke out into
typical expressions of baseball frenzy, and
individual ones illustrating our particular moods.
Merritt got up and made a dive for the ball.
With face positively flaming he flung it far beyond
the merry crowd, over into a swamp. Then he
limped for the bench. Which throw ended the
most memorable game ever recorded to the credit
of the ``rabbit.''
FALSE COLORS
``Fate has decreed more bad luck for Salisbury
in Saturday's game with Bellville. It has leaked
out that our rivals will come over strengthened
by a `ringer,' no less than Yale's star pitcher,
Wayne. We saw him shut Princeton out in June,
in the last game of the college year, and we are
not optimistic in our predictions as to what Salisbury
can do with him. This appears a rather unfair
procedure for Bellville to resort to. Why
couldn't they come over with their regular team?
They have won a game, and so have we; both
games were close and brilliant; the deciding game
has roused unusual interest. We are inclined to
resent Bellville's methods as unsportsmanlike.
All our players can do is to go into this game on
Saturday and try the harder to win.''
Wayne laid down the Salisbury Gazette, with a
little laugh of amusement, yet feeling a vague,
disquieting sense of something akin to regret.
``Pretty decent of that chap not to roast me,''
he soliloquized.
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