bully, Nick Lang, whose
acquaintance the reader has already made in a previous volume, and
under exciting conditions. Nick at one time had a good chance of
making the nine, for he was a hustler when it came to playing ball,
and indeed, in nearly every sport; but as might be expected, he
managed to display his nasty temper in practice, and Coach Saunders,
who heartily disliked and distrusted the big fellow, speedily turned
him down.

Nick, as usual, had his two faithful henchmen along with him, Leon
Disney and Tip Slavin; and the trio led the hooting whenever a chance
came to rub it into Scranton. Some of the visitors hardly liked
this; it smacked too much of rank treachery to please them. It was
all very well for visitors to deride the home team in order to
"rattle" the pitcher; but for fellows living in Scranton to indulge
in this sort of thing did not seem right.

Hugh believed he had had quite enough of this see-saw business. If
Frazer was going to "jump" in that miserable fashion the game was
as good as gone. He disliked doing it the worst kind, but he saw
the appealing look Frazer shot in his direction on third when the
visitors once more started their bombardment. It meant Frazer had
lost all confidence in his ability to stop the threatened rally;
and that he was making signs for help.

So Hugh took him out.

It was Alan Tyree who stepped into the box, and began to toss a few
balls to the backstop, in order to limber up his arm; while the
visiting batsman waited the signal from the umpire to toe the home
plate, and get ready to strike.

Just three times did Alan send in one of his terrific shoots that
fairly sizzled as they shot past; three times the heavy batter cut
the thin air with his club, and then walked over to where his companions
sat in a clump, watching curiously to see how the change was going
to work.

Up came the next visitor on the list, who also made light with the
offering of poor Frazer. Did he start a batting bee all over again?
Well, not that any one could notice it. The best he could do was
to fan the air on two successive occasions, and then send up a twisting
foul that Thad Stevens managed to hold, after a pretty erratic chase
back and forth.

Now it was the loyal home fans who began to root long and hard. They
scented victory, and it seemed good after so much bitter humiliation
at the hands of this newly organized team, most of them strange to
their positions, and capabl