ell, from the little glimpse of their skill that was now had.

Then one of their best batsmen took up the willow, driving a few
long, swift fielders.

"This will get the Centrals nervous before they start, if they
see any of our work," laughed one of Hi's players.

Truth to tell, the North Grammar boys did show some pretty work.
Ted Teall looked on approvingly.

"Prescott has met his match to-day," remarked Ted to a friend.

"These Norths will bother you, too, won't they, Ted?"

"Us? No; not a bit. We can play all around the Norths. But
Central will have to take third place when the series is done."

"The Centrals haven't got rattled and skulked, have they?" called
Hi Martin at last.

A disdainful yell came back from the assembled Central boys.

"Then some one hurry over and tell 'em that it's time to hustle
on to the field and take their medicine," urged Hi. "We don't
want to have the game called for darkness before we're half through."

"The Centrals will be here on time," called back one of Old Dut's
boys. "Don't you worry any about them. Dick Prescott is holding
the watch over our crowd."

"It's four twenty-seven," announced Hi, consulting his gold watch.

"Four twenty-five and a half," corrected a Central boy.

"Go get your watch fixed," retorted Hi scornfully. "And some
one else run and see if he can find out where the Centrals are
hiding."

"Here they come!" yelled one excited Central boy. "Whoopee!
They will answer for themselves!"

In an instant the Central cheering became tumultuous. Even Ted
Teall rubbed his eyes and gasped.

For the Central Grammar School squad was marching toward the field,
having just left the schoolhouse. At the head of all, chin well
up, marched Old Dut. Back of him, two and two, marched Dick Prescott
and his players. What marvel had been worked? For the Central
boys wore uniforms that made Hi Martin's fellows look like so
many gaudy figures on a cheap poster!

Chapter IV

THE STORY OF THE UNIFORMS

"Great Scott!" gasped Hi Martin, in sheer dismay, his gaze fixed
on the approaching Centrals.

"Where in the mischief did they get those uniforms?" demanded
Tom Percival, of the North Grammars, his mouth agape.

"Well, they have 'em, anyway," added Bill Rodgers. "And they
certainly look more than fine, don't they?"

"The uniforms are made of cheap stuff, I'll wager," muttered Hi
hoarsely. There was a choke in his throat over seeing his own
nine so badly e