"But we're not going to lose!" exclaimed Granger. "I feel it in my bones!"

"It'll be the score and not your bones that'll tell the story," jibed Slim.

"Scots wha' hae with Wallace bled, Scots wha' Bruce has often led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory,"

chanted Tom Eldridge.

"And it's going to be victory," affirmed Teddy, "The other fellows will be the dead ones."

But the "other fellows" had views of their own on that subject, and from the time the first ball was pitched the Rally Hall boys knew that they had their work cut out for them.

Ned was in the box at the start, and Fred, who was ready to take his place if needed, played right field.

The pitchers on both sides were in good form, and for the first three innings neither side scored a run, although a two-base hit by Melvin and a daring steal had gotten him as far as third. Two were out at the time, however, and Ward made the third out on a high fly to left.

The pitcher on the Mount Vernon team was a big, sandy-haired, freckle-faced youth who did not look at all like a student, and the boys noticed that when his nine was at the bat, he sat apart from the others, almost as though he were a stranger. Slim Haley had a suspicion, and strolled over to have a chat with him, while he was resting.

"Mount Vernon is a pretty good school," said Slim, trying to start a conversation.

"Yep," said the other shortly.

"Nice bunch of fellows," continued Slim affably.

"Good enough, I s'pose," said the other.

"What studies are you taking?" asked Slim, his suspicions deepening.

The other hesitated a moment.

"Voconometry and trigoculture," he got out, with an effort.

"What?" asked the puzzled Slim.

But just then the inning ended, and the sandy-haired pitcher had to go to the box.

Slim made his way back to his own crowd.

"Did you fellows ever hear of voconometry and trigoculture?" he asked.

"What are you giving us?" jeered Tom, with a grin.

"Stop stringing us, Slim," added Ned.

"Honest, I'm not fooling," protested Slim, "I asked that pitcher what studies he was taking, and he said 'voconometry and trigoculture.'"

The boys pondered a moment.

"I've got it!" shouted Fred, a light breaking in on him. "That fellow's a 'ringer.' He isn't a Mount Vernon student at all. There's something the matter with their regular pitcher, and they've picked up this fellow somewhere and rung him in on us as a regular school player. They've been afraid we might tumble to it and ask him questions, and so they told him what to say."

"But why did they tell him to say any nonsense like that?" asked Slim, perplexed.

"They didn't," explained Fred. "He's got mixed up. What they told him to say if any one asked him was that he was studying trigonometry and vocal culture.' He got stuck and called it 'voconometry and trigoculture.'"

There was a roar of laughter, but this was quickly followed by indignation.

"It's a dirty trick to play on us," growled Billy Burton.

"Sure it is," agreed Tom. "But it's too late to protest now. Let's go in and lick them anyway."

In the fifth inning, a scorching liner struck Ned on his pitching arm.

He picked it up and got his man at first. But the blow had bruised his muscles badly, and he became wild. He could not control the sphere, and gave two bases on b.a.l.l.s. These, with an error and a hit sandwiched in, yielded two runs before the side was out.

"You'll have to take my place, Fred," he said as they came in for their turn at bat. "My arm is numb and I can't get them over."

So Fred took up the pitching burden with a handicap of two runs against him to start with.

"All over but the shouting," yelled the Mount Vernon rooters.

But they changed their tune as Fred shot his curves and benders over the plate. He pitched his prettiest, and only once was in danger. Then, with a man on first and one out, a rattling double play started by Teddy pulled him out of the hole.

But the other fellow, too, was pitching magnificently.

CHAPTER XXIX

ANDY SHANKS "GETS HIS"

The Mount Vernon partisans were in an ecstasy of delight at the lead their favorites were holding and from present indications seemed likely to hold to the end. They yelled their loudest at every good play made by the home team, and did all they could to keep them up to fighting pitch.

The Rally Hall followers, although of course outnumbered, kept up their end and shouted until they were hoa.r.s.e. Among these none were more vociferous than Lester Lee and Bill Garwood. They had not "made" the team, although they liked and understood the game. But they were "dyed-in-the-wool" rooters for their team, and especially for the Rushton boys upon whose shoulders rested so much of responsibility for the fate of the game.

As luck would have it, they were surrounded on every side by the Mount Vernon boys, many of whom were accompanied by pretty girls who had come to see the downfall of the invaders. Some of them knew very little of the game, but that did not dampen their enthusiasm, and they clapped their hands and waved their flags whenever that seemed the right thing to do.

One of them was seated right alongside of Lester, and he and Bill could not help hearing her conversation.

Her escort, in an interval between innings, was trying to tell her of a game he had recently seen.

"This fellow was a fast runner," he remarked, "and he stole second base while the pitcher wasn't looking."

"Stole it!" she exclaimed. "Why, I thought the bases were fastened down."

"They are," the young man laughed, "but he stole it just the same."

"I think that's just disgraceful," she said indignantly. "Did they arrest him?"