“Oh, well,” said Clif, “I’d rather make the first, of course. Any fellow would, I guess. Besides, if Tom gets on I don’t see why I can’t. Every one knows I’m far superior to him.” “My Sainted Aunt Jerusha!” breathed Tom in awe. “Hear that boy talk! Mr. Bingham, I used to be known as ‘the King of the Diamond’ when Clif was in rompers!” “Let’s see,” chuckled Mr. Bingham, “what’s the difference in your ages, Tom?” “More than five months,” replied Tom impressively. “In whose favor?” asked Mr. Cooper innocently, and brought a laugh. “Anyway,” said Tom, returning to gravity, “our gang’s got to learn to hit better than it’s been hitting before next Saturday or we’ll be gone coons. Wolcott’s been swatting the old apple hard all the season. Look what she did a week ago Saturday. Got fourteen hits off that Goodwin pitcher, what’shisname!” “Deering,” said Loring. “But he’s nothing much.” “Just the same, we couldn’t hit him when we played there during vacation. Well, maybe our fellows did touch him up a bit, but we didn’t get anything like fourteen off him, and we lost the game.” “You play Wolcott next Saturday?” asked Mr. Bingham. “Does Wolcott come here, or――” “Yes, sir,” answered Clif. “That’s the first game. We go to Cotterville Tuesday for the second and then play here again Wednesday in case of a tie.” “There won’t be any game next Wednesday,” declared Tom pessimistically. “If we can’t hit a poor fish like that fellow who pitched against us to-day we certainly can’t touch that left-hander of theirs, Osterman; or Rice either. Those guys are _good_! And I guess that fast ball artist of theirs isn’t much worse.” “I don’t believe that Osterman is a bit better than Jeff Ogden,” said Loring stoutly. “And here’s another thing, Tom. We’ve got three left-hand pitchers to Wolcott’s two.” “What of it? They’ve got a second-string outfield of left-hand batters!” “Where do you get all this dope?” asked Clif. “I read the papers, son. Wolcott had five out of nine fellows in her batting-list hitting left-handed a couple of weeks ago against Brown Prep. Brown put in a left-hand twirler, and Wolcott switched half her gang and punched out enough hits to win. I call that strategy, what?” “Gosh,” said Clif, “the trouble with our team is that there aren’t five on it who can hit right-handed, to say nothing of left! Just the same, I’ll bet we cop the first game anyway, and if we lose the second we’ve still got a chance in the third; and playing on your own field, with a lot of fellows cheering you and every one pulling your way, is bound to help.” “Sure, and we’re going to need that help,” said Tom grimly. “I wish Steve would change the batting order and see how it would go. Greene isn’t any good as a lead-off man. Hurry would be a lot better. If the first fellow up doesn’t draw his base one way or another, what good is he? And Al Greene’s got his base when he’s led off just about once since I joined the team.”