The total attendance was past four thousand paid admissions.
Herr Schimmelpodt, who, since his first enthusiasm, had not missed a game, was now among the most concerned.
The band was there, but silent.

The leader knew that, in this state of affairs the spectators wanted to make the noise themselves.
"Oh, you Dick!" "Strike 'em out as fast as they come up." "Save Gridley!" "Aw, let somebody have a game," roared a voice from the Wayland seats, "and we need this one!" "Prescott, remember the record!" "No defeats this year!" "Don't give us one, now!" Dick & Co.

were in full force on the nine today.

True, Dave Darrin sat only on the sub bench to-day, but he was ready to give relief at any moment if Gridley's beloved pitcher, Prescott, went under.
Holmes was out in left field; Hazelton was the nimble shortstop; Dalzell pranced at the first bag on the diamond; Tom Reade was eternally vigilant on second base.
Gridley's High School girls, devoted feminine fans as any in the world, were breathing soft and fast now.

If only Dick, backed at need by the outfield, could keep Wayland from scoring further, then all was well.