If Dick Prescott tells me to pile up seven runs against the Souths I'm going to do it." "I hope you do," murmured another boy.

"Yet it seems against us---after the way we saw the Souths play to-day." "Or rather," added Dick quietly, "the way the North Grammars didn't play.

They'd have put up a lot better game if their captain hadn't lost his nerve and his head." As the Central Grammar boys left, most of them in one crowd, there was a rather general feeling that Dick was just a bit too confident.
Or, was he simply "putting it on," in order to bolster up the courage of his players?
Dick Prescott, at least, was qualified to know what he really expected.

He really was confident of victory in the game that should decide the league championship.
"If you feel that you can't be beaten, and won't be beaten, but that you've got to win and are going to win, then that's more than half the points of a game won in advance," he told his chums.
"Fellows, in baseball or anything else, we won't say die, either now or at any later time in life.

We'll make it our rule to ride right over anything that gets in our way.