celsior Hall had opened under auspicious occasions everyone thought, and more than one lad had great hopes that the Blue Banner would come back there to stay for a while.
"Play ball!" called the umpire again, and this time the game was on in earnest.
Joe dug a little hole for the toe of his shoe, revolved the ball in his hands a few times, and looked to get the signal from Bob Harrison, the scrub catcher.
Bob, who knew the individual characteristics of each batter better than did Joe (though the latter was rapidly learning them) signalled for a high out, and our hero nodded his head in confirmation. The next instant he delivered the ball.
There was a vicious swing of the bat, and there could almost be heard the swish as it cut the air. And that is all it did do, for the horsehide landed squarely in Bob's glove with a resounding ping! and there was one strike against Nat.
"That's the way to do it!" cried Bob.
"Say, what's the matter with you?" angrily demanded Luke Fodick of one of his best batters. "What do you want to fan for?"
"Couldn't help it, I guess," answered Bob rather sheepishly. "It was a curve."
"Well, don't you know how to handle them by
