"Dick Prescott and his fellows beat us fairly.

Come on we'll congratulate 'em." Good sportsman that he was, Ted almost limped across the field, followed by some of his players, to where Dick and the other Central Grammar players were surrounded by their friends.
"Prescott, you fellows are wonders!" broke forcefully from Captain Ted.
"Nothing like it," Captain Dick laughed modestly.

"Some one had to win, you know, and the luck came to us." "Luck!" exploded Ted unbelievingly.

"Nothing like it, either.
No sheer luck could ever have broken down the cast-iron determination that our fellows had to win.

You Centrals are the real ball players of the town---that's the only answer." Whooping wildly in their glee, scores of Central Grammar boys rushed at Dick Prescott, trying to get at his hand and wring it.
"Please don't fellows," begged Dick, going almost white under the torment, after three or four boys had succeeded in pumping that arm.