"We've got to work mighty hard and carefully," grunted Tom Reade.

"Yes," assented Dick briefly.

"We're beaten, anyway, I guess," sighed Hazelton.

Dick Prescott wheeled upon him almost wrathfully.

"We're never beaten, Harry---remember that. We don't propose
to be beaten, and we can't be. We're going to bat now to pile
up a few more runs. The championship is ours, fellows---don't
let that fact escape you."

"I wish I had Dick's confidence," sighed Harry, turning to Reade.

"It isn't confidence; it's nerve," Tom retorted. "If we all show
nerve like Dick's, then nothing but the hardest sort of luck can
take this game away from us."

Greg went first to bat, securing the first bag. Dick followed,
with a two-bagger that brought frantic cheers from the on-looking
Central Grammar boys.

"There are our two runs---the ones we need," cheered Darrin to
himself, as he snatched up his bat. "Now if I'm any good on earth,
I'll bring Greg in and perhaps Dick, too."

Though Dave was excited, he kept the fact to himself, facing Ted
Teall with steely composure.