in helping the Randall team to win. But he could only look on and cheer with the others.
To win or lose the first game meant much to either team. Not so much to Boxer Hall, perhaps, as that team had run Fairview Institute a close second for the championship, but to Randall the winning of the game might put the necessary "snap" into the lads, while to lose it might so discourage them that it would be well on in the season before they would "take a brace."
So it is no wonder that there was a feeling of nervousness on the part of the coach and the players.
The practice was over. The preliminaries had been arranged, the home team, Randall, having the privilege of being last to bat. Langridge, with final instructions from the coach, took his place in the box.
"Play ball!" fairly howled the umpire, and the game was on.
"Ping!" That was the sound of the bat colliding with the ball, the first ball that Langridge threw. Describing a graceful curve, the white sphere sailed up into the air. Ed Kerr, hoping it might be a foul, had thrown off his mask and was wildly looking for it, but it was winging its way toward Jerry Jackson in right field. A yell went up from the two hundred college supporters of Boxer Hall, but it was changed to a groan when one of the Jersey
