The non-combatants of the Sixth Form were also massed with them, making a display of numbers far more impressive than that afforded by the Fourth Form supporters on the third-base line, to whom a few curious and undesired small boys of the First and Second and Third Forms had attached themselves.
During the few minutes of field practice the Fourth Form nine had an opportunity to accustom themselves to what was to come—abusive comments, derisive cheers, personal remarks of the most unflattering kind. Keating at first base was naturally the most direct recipient of these, but he kept working away with the wad of chewing-gum in his mouth and otherwise never changed a muscle of his face—not even when the fellows just behind him condoled with him on being so pigeon-toed and urged him not to walk on his ankle-bones.
The game began with the Sixth Form in the field—Bell pitching, Payne catching, Blanchard at shortstop, Durant at second base, and Watts at first. It was a very quiet inning, and Edward began to think that per-