“He’s a wonder at throwing that ball to first. Guess we ain’t going to steal many sacks on that kid to-day, you hear me?” exclaimed another. “Oh! rats! you give me a pain! That was only an accident. He couldn’t do it again in a year of Sundays!” ejaculated one of the Bellport players who was lounging near the bleachers. “Perhaps not,” laughed a Columbia graduate, “but all the same he’s got you fellows guessing, and you’ll cut your leads short at bases while he’s in the box.” Banghardt, after knocking three fouls, also struck out. This record against such known heavy hitters delighted the crowd. A rattling cheer and much hand-clapping greeted the incoming of Ralph. Of course he had to doff his cap, and smile; but at the same time he did not appear to be excited. The umpire was watching him curiously, for Ralph had interested the veteran Princeton player very much. “I think he’s going to do himself proud to-day. These fellows may win, but not through that boy going up in the air. He knows how to master himself,” was what he said to Frank Allen, as he took a drink from the water bucket. “I knew he had it in him; and I’m rather pleased that an accident kept me out of the box to-day. It may be the making of Ralph,” replied the other; and hearing such warm, generous words, the umpire nodded his head in appreciation. He had doubtless known so much shallow envy among ball players that such an exhibition of pure devotion to the interests of the school pleased him greatly. The lineup of Columbia had been altered somewhat, on account of Ralph taking the place of Frank as pitcher. This threw him last on the batting order. Ben Allison, the regular right fielder, was fortunately able to occupy that place, and consequently he faced Coddling first. By the way Coddling threw a few to his first baseman it was evident that he had felt the defeat of the previous Saturday keenly, and was there with blood in his eye, determined to retrieve that disaster. “Look at that, will you? Ain’t he got speed to burn to-day? I’m sorry for Columbia, boys,” called a Bellport student, with the colors of his school on his hat. “Get out your wipers, boys. It’s sure going to be a funeral!” mocked a boy who boasted of the famous orange and purple. “Let up, you fellows. He’s going to pitch one now!” shouted a man near by; and again the interest was centered upon the pitcher’s box. Coddling wound up and shot one over. Allison promptly struck, but his bat only whistled through the air, for the excellent reason that the ball was not within six inches of where he supposed it to be. “Say, Mister Coddling is some at that sort of thing, you see!” howled a delighted Bellport supporter, jumping up and addressing the bleacher crowd. “Sit down!” “Hire a hall and take a day off!” “Watch him send another disappearing ball down the line, boys!”