ght measures
of music from the Military Academy Band, which had been quiet for
a few minutes.

Then the cheer settled down, for Prescott found himself facing Dan
Dalzell at the bat, with Darrin on deck.

"Wipe 'em!" signaled Greg's antics.

Now, to "wipe" Dalzell, who had known everyone of Dick's old curves
and tricks in former days, did not look like a promising task,
for Dalzell, in addition to his special knowledge about this pitcher,
was an expert with the bat. But there might be a chance to put
Dan on the mourner's bench. If Dalzell succeeded in picking up
even a single from Dick's starting delivery, then Dave could be
all but depended upon to push his Navy chum a bag or two further
around the course.

"If I can twist Dan all up, it may serve to rattle Dave, too,"
thought the Army pitcher like a flash.

Dalzell poised the bat, and stood swinging it gently, with an
expectant grin that, had it been a school audience, would have made
the youngsters on the bleachers yell:

"Get your face closed tight, Danny! That grin hides the stick!"

Dalzell had often had that hurled at him in the old days, but he
did not have to dread it now. But Prescott knew that old broad
grin. It was Dalzell's favorite "rattler" for the balltosser.

"I think I know the scheme for getting the hair off your goat,"
mused Prescott, as he sent in his first.

"Ball one!" called the umpire.

Dan's grin broadened.

"Ball two!"

Dalzell knew he had the Army pitcher going now, and didn't take
the trouble to reach for the ball.

"Strike one!"

That took some of the starch out of the Navy batsman, who suddenly
realized that this twirler for the Army was up to old tricks.

"Strike two!"

Dan was sure he had that one, and he missed it only by an inch.

Gone, now, was the grin on Dalzell's face. A frown gathered between
his eyes as he took harder hold of the stick and waited.

Nor did Prescott keep him long waiting. The ball came in, and
Dan gauged it fairly well. Yet he fanned for the third time.

"Batsman out!"

Dan hesitated an almost imperceptible instant at the plate. Swift
as lightning he made a wry little mouth at Prescott. It nearly
broke Dick up with laughter as Dalzell stalked moodily to the
bench and Dave stepped forward.

In fact, the Army pitcher choked and shook so that Durville called
to him in a quiet, anxious voice from shortstop's beat:

"Anything wrong, ramrod?"

None of the spectators heard this,