talking to so long?" asked Ned, as the
crowd got off the train.

"I never saw him before," answered Fred. "But he's a good old scout,
whoever he is. He sure is fond of baseball and he knows the game. I'd
like to have him in the stands this afternoon. I'll bet he'd be a mascot
for us."

The nine was in fine fettle, and felt that they would have no excuses to
offer if they failed to win.

"But we're not going to lose!" exclaimed Granger. "I feel it in my
bones!"

"It'll be the score and not your bones that'll tell the story," jibed
Slim.

"Scots wha' hae with Wallace bled,
Scots wha' Bruce has often led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory,"

chanted Tom Eldridge.

"And it's going to be victory," affirmed Teddy, "The other fellows will
be the dead ones."

But the "other fellows" had views of their own on that subject, and from
the time the first ball was pitched the Rally Hall boys knew that they
had their work cut out for them.

Ned was in the box at the start, and Fred, who was ready to take his
place if needed, played right field.

The pitchers on both sides were in good form, and for the first three
innings neither side scored a run, although a two-base hit by Melvin and
a daring steal had gotten him as far as third. Two were out at the time,
however, and Ward made the third out on a high fly to left.

The pitcher on the Mount Vernon team was a big, sandy-haired,
freckle-faced youth who did not look at all like a student, and the boys
noticed that when his nine was at the bat, he sat apart from the others,
almost as though he were a stranger. Slim Haley had a suspicion, and
strolled over to have a chat with him, while he was resting.

"Mount Vernon is a pretty good school," said Slim, trying to start a
conversation.

"Yep," said the other shortly.

"Nice bunch of fellows," continued Slim affably.

"Good enough, I s'pose," said the other.

"What studies are you taking?" asked Slim, his suspicions deepening.

The other hesitated a moment.

"Voconometry and trigoculture," he got out, with an effort.

"What?" asked the puzzled Slim.

But just then the inning ended, and the sandy-haired pitcher had to go
to the box.

Slim made his way back to his own crowd.

"Did you fellows ever hear of voconometry and trigoculture?" he asked.

"What are you giving us?" jeered Tom, with a grin.

"Stop stringing us, Slim," added Ned.

"Honest, I'm not fooling," protested Slim, "I aske