So, after a fashion, it had. Despite its support of the Clippers, Carsonville turned out to see baseball, rather than to see the Clippers play. It loved the game for itself. Down underneath the surface, however, it cherished a warm dislike for the Clippers and their captain.
This dislike had been, perforce, hidden, for fear of antagonizing the autocrat of Carsonville. When the home team had been playing, all personalities had been forgotten in the game itself. On such occasions, even Bully Carson had become popular for the moment, if he won a game.
It was quite different on this Saturday, however. The Carsons had been defied, and when the crowd had streamed into the park, it forgot all about its fear of Colonel Carson’s power.
“I hope them Clippers get trounced! I hope Bully Carson gets knocked out of the box!” cried[85] old Abner Powell, on whose forty acres the colonel held a heavy mortgage.
“So do I! Hurray for the Clippings!” yelled the teller of the Carsonville bank.
“Here’s where the colonel gets took down!” shouted the Carsons’ hired man.
Every one had forgotten their fears, under the magic influence of the ball park. And every one had raised the price of a seat. By general consent, it was the largest crowd that the Carsonville park had ever held.
Every man on the two teams was known personally to the fans, except Merriwell and Clancy. Even they were known by reputation, though few of the townsfolk had dared to show support by watching the Clippings practice.
The line-up of the two teams was announced that morning by bulletin:
CLIPPINGS.
McCarthy, 3d b.
Nippen, c. f.
Clancy, 1st b.
Merriwell, p.
McQuade, c.
Spaulding, 2d b.
Moore, l. f.
Henderson, r. f.
Newton, ss. CLIPPERS.
Fletcher, c.
Burkett, 1st b.
Bangs, 3d b.
Ironton, ss.
Johnson, r. f.
Murray, 2d b.
Carson, p.
Runge, l. f.
Merrell, c. f.
The diamond was in perfect condition, its caretaker having spent all morning getting it in shape.[86] Every line was freshly marked, every inch carefully raked free of hindrances. The very sight of it was a joy to the fans, empty though it stood.
And it was joy to Merriwell and Clancy, also, when they arrived at the clubhouse beneath the grand stand. Both had been too busy to look at the place, but they were instantly delighted by it. Meantime, the Hornet proceeded around to the field with Mrs. McQuade and Jim Spaulding’s young brother.
“It’s a peach of a place, Chip!” cried the red-haired chap.
“Yes—look at that diamond! I don’t remember when I’ve seen a better cared-for place.”
Merry continued his inspection as the rest of his team poured in to dress. There were bleachers behind first and third, all well filled, and the only symptom of neglect was in the high board fence. Directly behind second, in the center fielder’s territory, there was a strip of fence ten feet wide that had been leveled. This, it appeared, had been cut out to erect a large score board, but there had been delay in the shipment of materials, and the gap was unfilled.
Billy Mac pointed to the river, which ran about a hundred yards behind the fence.
“No home runs in this field,” he said, “unless the ball goes into the river. You see, the diamond inclosure is a little small, Chip. Outside of the fence it’s marshy, and it would have cost a[87] lot to fill in. So they compromised on that ground rule. If the ball goes into the river, it’s a home run. It’s never yet gone in, though.”
“Queer kind of ground rule,” growled Clancy. “But there’s no accounting for tastes, so let’s try to put the ball in the water, fellows!”
“We’l-l-l try,” piped Chub resolutely. “When do we practice?”
“Right now,” exclaimed Frank. “We’re a little early, so we’ll get to work and let the Clippers howl, if they want to.”
When the Clippings walked out, they were greeted by a long yell from the fans. Then there rose a buzz of voices as the players trotted out to their places, and Merry began to drive hot ones along the infield.
Every one was wondering how the home talent would show up. No sooner had the ball begun to snap around the bases than shout after shout pealed up. Despite their rare and wonderful uniforms, the Clippings showed form!
Even Frank was surprised. On the level diamond his team proved that they could do something, after all. They went after the ball with ginger, and the way they snapped it up was astonishing.
The Clippers now produced themselves, and promptly spread out behind the foul lines to inspect their opponents. They delivered themselves[88] of comments, which were audible over most of the field.
“Look at the uniforms!” yelled Squint Fletcher. “They used them kind fifty years ago! Pipe the Irish third baseman! Wow!”
“Who’s that scrubby runt playin’ short?” cried Ironton, waving his fists. “Wait till I land on him!”
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CHAPTER IX. COLONEL CARSON MAKES A BET.
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CHAPTER XI. THE CLIPPINGS GET WILD.
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