A bevy of
white-gowned girls rose like a covey of ptarmigans,
and whirled flags of maroon and gray.
Dorothy Huling wore a bow of Yale blue upon
her breast, and Wayne saw it and her face through
a blur.
``Hurry, girls; get it over. We've got to
practice,'' said the captain.
In the merry melee some one tied a knot of
ribbon upon Wayne. Who it was he did not know;
he saw only the averted face of Dorothy Huling.
And as he returned to the field with a dull pang,
he determined he would make her indifference
disappear with the gladness of a victory for her
team.
The practice was short, but long enough for
Wayne to locate the glaring weakness of Salisbury
at shortstop and third base. In fact, most
of the players of his team showed rather poor
form; they were overstrained, and plainly lacked
experience necessary for steadiness in an
important game.
Burns, the catcher, however, gave Wayne
confidence. He was a short, sturdy youngster, with
all the earmarks of a coming star. Huling, the
captain, handled himself well at first base. The
Bellville players were more matured, and some of
them were former college cracks. Wayne saw
that he had his work cut out for him.
The whistle blew. The Bellville team trotted
to their position in the field; the umpire called
play, and tossed a ball to Mackay, the long, lean
Georgetown pitcher.
Pages:
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192