The first person he met
upon going down was Reed, the Bellville man.
``What's this I hear, Wayne, about your pitching
for Salisbury today? I got your telegram.''
``Straight goods,'' replied Wayne.
``But I thought you intended to pitch for us?''
``I didn't promise, did I?''
``No. Still, it looks fishy to me.''
``You've got Mackay, haven't you?''
``Yes. The truth is, I intended to use you
both.''
``Well, I'll try to win for Salisbury. Hope
there's no hard feeling.''
``Not at all. Only if I didn't have the Georgetown
crack, I'd yell murder. As it is, we'll trim
Salisbury anyway.''
``Maybe,'' answered Wayne, laughing. ``It's
a hot day, and my arm feels good.''
When Wayne reached the ball grounds, he
thought he had never seen a more inspiring sight.
The bright green oval was surrounded by a glittering
mass of white and blue and black. Out
along the foul lines were carriages, motors, and
tally-hos, brilliant with waving fans and flags.
Over the field murmured the low hum of many
voices.
``Here you are!'' cried Huling, making a grab
for Wayne. ``Where were you this morning?
We couldn't find you. Come! We've got a minute
before the practice whistle blows, and I promised
to exhibit you.''
He hustled Wayne down the first-base line, past
the cheering crowd, out among the motors, to the
same touring car that he remembered.
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