"Say, Merritt, what little brains you've got will presently be ridin' on the 'rabbit.'" "You will chase up these exhibition games!" "Take your medicine now. Ha! Ha! Ha!" After these merciless taunts, and particularly after the next slashing hit that tied the score, Merritt looked appreciably smaller and humbler. He threw up another ball, and actually shied as it neared the plate. The giant who was waiting to slug it evidently thought better of his eagerness as far as that pitch was concerned, for he let it go by. Merritt got the next ball higher. With a mighty swing, the batsman hit a terrific liner right at the pitcher. Quick as lightning, Merritt wheeled, and the ball struck him with the sound of two boards brought heavily together with a smack. Merritt did not fall; he melted to the ground and writhed while the runners scored with more tallies than they needed to win. What did we care! Justice had been done us, and we were unutterably happy. Crabe Bane stood on his head; Gillinger began a war dance; old man Hathaway hobbled out to the side lines and whooped like an Indian; Snead rolled over and over in the grass. All of us broke out into typical expressions of baseball frenzy, and individual ones illustrating our particular moods. Merritt got up and made a dive for the ball. With face positively flaming he flung it far beyond the merry crowd, over into a swamp. Then he limped for the bench. Which throw ended the most memorable game ever recorded to the credit of the "rabbit." FALSE COLORS "Fate has decreed more bad luck for Salisbury in Saturday's game with Bellville. It has leaked out that our rivals will come over strengthened by a 'ringer,' no less than Yale's star pitcher, Wayne. We saw him shut Princeton out in June, in the last game of the college year, and we are not optimistic in our predictions as to what Salisbury can do with him. This appears a rather unfair procedure for Bellville to resort to. Why couldn't they come over with their regular team? They have won a game, and so have we; both games were close and brilliant; the deciding game has roused unusual interest. We are inclined to resent Bellville's methods as unsportsmanlike. All our players can do is to go into this game on Saturday and try the harder to win." Wayne laid down the Salisbury Gazette, with a little laugh of amusement, yet feeling a vague, disquieting sense of something akin to regret. "Pretty decent of that chap not to roast me," he soliloquized. Somewhere he had heard that Salisbury maintained an unsalaried team. It was notorious among college athletes that the Bellville Club paid for the services of distinguished players. And this in itself rather inclined Wayne to sympathize with Salisbury. He knew something of the struggles of a strictly amateur club to cope with its semi-professional rivals.