When finally the Columbia boys came in after a strenuous practice covering about a quarter of an hour, the many-colored flags fluttered from the hands of those in the grandstand until the structure looked like a great bunch of flowers; while from hundreds of lusty throats rose the various class and school cries, blending in a surge of sound. Then Bellport took the field, their going out being the signal for a tremendous ovation, for they had the full support of their town. Roderic Seymour had changed the batting list somewhat since the last game played with Clifford. To Ralph was given the honor of leading off, since he was playing in place of Ben Allison. The order ran in this fashion: Ralph West--Left field. “Bones” Shaddock--Third base. Jack Comfort--Center field. Lanky Wallace--First base. Buster Billings--Right field. Tom Budd--Shortstop. Roderic Seymour--Second base. Paul Bird--Catcher. Frank Allen--Pitcher. Ralph was a fair batter, but a better waiter. For this latter reason he had been given orders to take his time, and as he faced the opposing pitcher, Coddling, who was said to be the best twirler Bellport had ever turned out, he assumed a position of eagerness and expectancy, as though burning with anxiety to strike. Coddling had never played against any of these fellows before. He was therefore forced to depend entirely on what his catcher signaled. And Clay, while on the team the preceding year, knew nothing about the weaknesses of this new batter. Consequently Ralph got his base, after two strikes had been called on him, one of which was really a miss at an outcurve. Of course the excitement began at once. A hum went around the field, and Columbia stock arose, with mocking cries hurled at the local adherents. Shaddock was a good hitter as rule. He had made something of a record on the team the preceding year. The best he could do now, after knocking three fouls, was to send one into the hands of the shortstop, who failed, however, to double Ralph at second on account of a fumble. Intense interest was taken in the coming to bat of Jack Comfort. “Lace one out, old boy!” howled the Columbia bunch in the center of the bleachers, where they had gathered to fairly split the atmosphere with their shouts. “You can do it if you try! Over Lacy’s head, Jack!” Jack thereupon did try. Three times he swung on the ball, and as often it came with a dull, sickening thud in the catcher’s big mitt, while the grin on the face of Smith, Sr., the tall first baseman, was most exasperating. A roar went up as Jack walked back to the bench shaking his head. Those elusive “spit” balls of Coddling had him guessing, and silently he stared at the slim pitcher who had proved his right to the name of wizard, as if trying to fathom where his own efforts fell short.