Hurry up.

We'll watch you." So Mr.Parkinson, of the junior class, seeing that the order was a positive one, had the good sense to obey.

He "hardened" the funny-bone of either arm against the punching bag to the tune of jeering laughter from the rest of the squad.

That was Coach Luce's way of dealing with the too-funny amateur humorist.
Fred, meantime, had selected his own catcher, and had whispered some words of instruction to him.
"Now, come on, Ripley," ordered Mr.Luce, swinging his bat over an imaginary plate.

"Let her come in about as you want to." "He's going to try a spit ball," muttered several, as they saw Fred moisten his fingers.
"That's a hard one for a greenhorn to put over," added another.
Fred took his place with a rather confident air; he had been drilling at Duxbridge for some weeks now.
Then, with a turn of his body, Ripley let the ball go off of his finger tips.