As Dan occasionally glanced at the spectators, he saw that almost numberless carriages and automobiles were in line on both sides. In front of them were men and boys close to the ropes. The seats in the grand stand were a solid mass of color. Indeed, seldom had the athletic field of the Tait School presented such a gay appearance as that which now greeted his eyes. If Dan was fearful, his manner did not betray his feeling; and when, after a brief delay, the umpires took their places and the Tait School nine, in accordance with the arrangement that the home team was to have the last inning, advanced to their positions in the field, no one apparently was more unconcerned than he. Sam Ventnor was short-stop in Walter’s place. Gus Kiggins loomed large at first base, Ned was behind the bat, Hodge at third base, and Smith was in left field. The ball was being swiftly thrown from one baseman to another, but the eyes of the visitors were all centered upon Dan as he slowly advanced to the pitcher’s box. The umpire signaled for the ball to be thrown him and as soon as he received it he slipped it into his pocket, tossed a new ball to Dan, and called sharply, “Play ball!” The first game of the series in the new league was begun. “Ball!” called the umpire as Dan sent the first ball swiftly to the outstretched hands of Ned. “Two balls!” was the announcement which followed the young pitcher’s second attempt. “Three balls!” was the third call of the umpire, and a scattered cheer arose from the followers of the Military Academy nine. “Steady, Dan,” called Hodge from third base. The pitcher slowly turned and glanced at the field. He saw that his companions were all somewhat nervous and there was a smile, whose meaning was plain, on the face of Gus Kiggins. If Dan shared in the prevailing feeling he did not manifest it by his actions. Deliberately he studied the batter, then drew back his arm and swiftly sent in the ball. Whether the speed of the little sphere or its puzzling curve misled the player or not Dan did not know, but it struck the batter full in the shoulder. A shout arose from the spectators as the player, rubbing the wounded spot, started toward first base. “Up in the air!” “Got him going!” “Wild as a hawk!” were among the gleeful calls from the friends of the Military Academy. An expression of anxiety appeared on the faces of the supporters and even on those of the members of the nine of the Tait School. Dan, however, did not change his quiet manner. If he was disturbed by the unfortunate beginning, he did not show it. Apparently ignoring the dancing runner, he slowly faced the next batter and then suddenly and with terrific speed sent the ball to Gus Kiggins at first. The baseman, perhaps caught unaware, dropped the ball when the runner was at least two feet off the base. A shout like the sharp report of a pistol at the misplay arose from the academy contingent, and the nervousness of the school nine and its friends increased.