"You'll get there some day," chuckled Dave. "Ready, 'Jack Frost'? I want to get my batting eye in shape." Among the great crowd of boys who surged on the field not a word of opposition was heard. The fast and snappy play brought forth ripples of applause. Bounders, grass-cutters, line drives and high flies were fielded or caught with admirable precision. There were few false movements made in whipping the ball from one to another. It was an inspiring sight to the Somers partisans. They cheered and yelled themselves hoarse. Joe Rodgers was in ecstasy. "They can't be beaten!" he cried. "Three forty-five P. M. Decision reached that the Ramblers can't be beaten," chuckled Benny Wilkins, who happened to be near. "Too bad we can't get some major leaguers out here and show 'em just where they stand." "Saturday will be a great day for the school team," predicted Harry Spearman. "Everybody is brimming over with confidence." "I never bank too much on parlor practice," put in Ted Pollock. "Hush! Don't say a word. Here comes Tom Clifton. Strikes me he's up in the air in more'n one way," he added, in a lower tone. "Gee, hasn't he changed! 'Member when he was a little timid sort of a kid, Wilkins?" "It hasn't been lately," growled Benny. "Of all the hot-air artists that ever strutted around a ball field he carries off the bakery, pie counter and all. If they get trounced on Saturday I won't shed any tears for Tommy." "What's this--a conspiracy?" chuckled Tom. "Cut out the whispering. Did you see Bob stop Hazel's grounder? Peach--wasn't it? Scooped the ball on a fast run." "Too bad Mr. Barry didn't witness that performance," said Benny. "He might have taken down the first of those no-trespassing signs. Wasn't it queer of the old chap to make such an offer, anyway?" "Most staggers me even now," admitted Ted Pollock. "Say, Tom, tried on your uniform yet?" "Certainly have. Guess it won't look so spick and span after I steal a few bases." "Better be careful how you try it on Nat's crowd," warned Ted. "His backstop, you know, has a big rep' for nippin' those sly dodges." "Oh, yes. But he'll have to eat some more pie before he can do the nipping act on me. Look out--let me get it!" Tom made a frantic rush in and out among the crowd in an effort to reach a high foul which had slipped from Dave Brandon's bat. Two juniors were bowled over in the attempt; but Tom caught the ball, and, flushed with triumph, snapped it over to "Jack Frost." "Nearly knocks a fellow's head off, an' never even says excuse me," muttered one disconsolate junior, rubbing his forehead. "I like his nerve." "So don't I," growled the other. "The silly chump rushed right between us before we had a chance to move. Gee! Look at him now, chasing that grounder. Guess he thinks he's the whole show. Listen! What's that?" A loud, discordant yell had blared through a megaphone.