“I know. But put in some fellows who can play. There’s Hopkins, Slade and Baker. You know they can play. They may pull us out of the hole and we might win with Ned’s pitching. Put ’em in!”
From the crowd of rooters came the demands.
The crowd was becoming unruly. Several shouted unpleasant names at Frank.
“Better put the three in,” advised Bill Hamilton. “They’ll put some pep in the team.”
Frank’s face showed his anger. He hesitated, while the roar from the crowd increased.
These and other calls were coming not only from the mere spectators of the game, but from the students of the military academy who had come to root for their side. Some of the Boxwood Hall boys, especially those who liked Jerry and his chums, and who did not have much use for the high-handed methods of Frank Watson, added their voices to the din.
“Better put ’em in,” suggested Bart, nodding toward our heroes, who, in their uniforms, sat on the scrub bench, not a little embarrassed by the attention they were attracting.
“You mind your own----” began Frank angrily, when Oscar Durand, the captain of the Kenwell team, stepped forward.
“Say,” he remarked in his slow, good-natured drawl, “go on and put in all the new men you want to. We don’t care. We’ll play a whole new team if you say so. Only do something, and don’t delay the game.”
Frank still hesitated. It was clear that he hated to give in to the boys whom he so disliked, but still he was enough of a ball player to realize that unless something were done Boxwood Hall would go down to defeat.
“Play ball!” came the insistent cries from the stands.
Ted Newton, the football hero of the school, hastened out to the sullen baseball captain.
“Put the three in, Frank,” he said. “It’s your only chance.”
Ted was chairman of the athletic advisory board, and he had much influence. Frank felt that his position was a shaky one.
“All right,” he said, sullenly. “I’ll let ’em play. Come on, Hopkins--Slade--Baker!” he called. “Get in the game.”
“And I hope you do better than I did,” remarked Jim Blake good-naturedly. He was enough of a real sport to put the team ahead of himself.
“I ought to have a little warm-up practice before I go in,” Ned suggested.
“Get over there and practice,” said Frank. “We’re at bat now, and Jake Porter can catch for you. No, I’d better do it myself, as I’m going to be behind the plate.”