"A likely-looking bunch," said Benny. "Luke Phelps says they can play some, too. Hooray for the Rockvilles!" The bursts of cheering which came from various parts of the field evidently pleased the visitors, who responded lustily. Within a few minutes Ed Barr, manager of the team, was conferring with Lou Mercer. "Not a very extra field, is it?" he said, eying with disapproval some of the irregularities which, in spite of the boys' earnest work, were much in evidence. "Still, it's just as bad for you as it is for us--that makes it even. Your chaps are through practicing, eh? All right. We'll warm up for a few minutes." A feeling of tense excitement was in the air; and when the "outlaws" presently left off work and sauntered nonchalantly over toward home plate this feeling found expression in curious murmuring sounds. The "Hopes" disposed their forms comfortably on the turf, or sat astride the soapboxes which had aroused Victor Collins' curiosity. From the players' bench the regulars keenly watched the work of the visitors. "They seem to have a lot of steam," remarked Steele, reflectively. "See the big chap over there in left field. That's 'Pinky' Crane--plays at first. I've met him. He's the captain. Nice chap, too." "At one time, waiting for the game to start would have made my nerves rather shaky, Bob," Charlie Blake was saying. "Thank goodness I've a better grip on myself now. Honest, though, I might have dropped out but for you and Dave. In those days I often wished I had Tom's spunk." The muscles around Tom Clifton's mouth twitched. His thoughts flew back to the night when he had almost shown the white feather himself. "Gee--if I had!" he murmured. Then, aloud: "What's that, Dave?" "We want to play such a lively, snappy game that the Rockvilles will be kept on the jump every second," said the editor of the "Reflector." "You've gotten down those base-stealing stunts pretty fine, Tom. Try 'em for all you're worth." "I've got 'em right down to the ground," chuckled Tom. "Ah, but that was certainly a pretty catch!" One of the Rockville players had nipped a high fly and returned the ball to the first baseman. After fifteen minutes' practice the visitors flocked in from the field, their faces glowing with anticipation and expectation. The umpire, already wearing his chest protector, and carrying his mask in his hand, detached himself from a group of interested spectators and walked to the plate, ready to call out the "Play ball!" for which so many were impatiently waiting. At the precise moment Dan Brown rose to his feet, shook the dust from his uniform and made for the same point, closely followed by his entire aggregation of players. This move raised an extraordinary commotion. The low, droning buzz of voices suddenly broke forth into excited murmurings, and above this came a renewal of the shouts and megaphone calls.