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Updated: June 3, 2025
Hoots and cat-calls from the Souths filled the air. The Central fans began to look a bit uneasy. What was their champion pitcher doing, to let Teall get away with his deliveries as easily as this? A third ball Dick drove in, with the same result as before. "Say, what you fellows need is practice," leered Ted.
He could think of nothing to say that would not make him look still more ridiculous. "I guess he'll be good, for one game at least," grimaced Dick as he turned to his teammates. The game had gone into the third inning, with the Centrals retired from the bat and the Souths now in from the field.
His friends were legion. His enemies were so numerous that he apprehended violence not only from the Souths, but also from others who nursed grudges in no way related to the line of feud cleavage. The Hollman-Purvy combination had retained enough of its old power to escape the law's retribution and to hold its dictatorship, but the efforts of John South had not been altogether bootless.
Meanwhile, it came insistently to the ears of Captain Callomb that some plan was on foot, the intricacies of which he could not fathom, to manufacture a case against a number of the Souths, quite apart from their actual guilt, or likelihood of guilt.
"Now, friends, please don't any of you make any noise until we Souths have a chance to say just a few words. All ready, South Grammars? Then three cheers for the Central Grammar School, winners of the school baseball league series. Let 'em rip out loudly!" The cheers were given, followed by a tiger. "Is Hi Martin, captain of the North Grammar nine, here?" called Ted Teall.
In the meantime Dick Prescott was being surrounded by anxious Central Grammar boys. "Dick," said one of them, while others listened eagerly, "you beat the Norths. But you didn't give them any such drubbing as the Souths did to-day. Are they a better nine than ours?" "No," Prescott answered promptly. "Yet they whipped the Norths worse than we did. Can we down the Souths?" "Yes," nodded Prescott.
"Then, I am to understand" the officer met the steady gray eyes and put the question like a cross-examiner bullying a witness "I am to understand that you deliberately put behind you a career to come down here and herd these fence-jumping sheep?" "Hardly that," deprecated the head of the Souths. "They sent for me that's all. Of course, I had to come." "Why?" "Because they had sent.
Lescott laughed. "Most rules of social usage," he explained, "go back to the test of efficiency. It is considered good form to eat with the fork, principally because it is more efficient," The boy nodded. "All right," he acquiesced. "You l'arn me all them things, an' I'll be obleeged ter ye. Things is diff'rent in diff'rent places. I reckon the Souths hes a right ter behave es good es anybody."
When the Souths went to grass, however, and the Norths took to the benches, all was in readiness for Hi, who came forth third on the batting list. The first two men had been struck out. "Come on in!" yelled a dozen tormentors from South Grammar onlookers. "The water's fine!" In spite of himself Hi frowned.
An' I'm a-goin' ter tell the High Sheriff that the Souths spits ye outen their mouths. Take him away." The crowd turned and left the place. When they were gone, Samson seated himself at his easel again, and picked up his palette. Lescott had come to the mountains anticipating a visit of two weeks.
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