Great Teams and the people who love them

The boys eased their cramped positions. A minute passed. Then they
leaped aside from the doorway, for the flood of white light from the car
was again illumining the hut and the engine was humming loudly. A moment
of suspense, and the light swept past them, moved to the right, fell on
a line of bushes and trees, turned back a little and bored a long hole
in the darkness at the bottom of which stretched a roadway. And then,
with a final sputter of racing engine and a grind of gears, the car
sprang away up the road, the light dimmed and blackness fell again. The
chugging of the auto diminished and died in the distance. Amy arose
stiffly from where he had thrown himself out of the light.

hand-pass and went through the centre
The signal was repeated and Martin dashed forward, took the pigskin at a
hand-pass and went through the centre. Amy grunted. “You just happened
to guess it,” he said. “Where are they going?”

high and Amy killed two at the start
So, apparently, did Holt, but he was too anxious and his serves broke
high and Amy killed two at the start. Then came a rally with both boys
racing up and down the court like mad and the white ball dodging back
and forth over the net from one side to the other. Holt finally secured
the ace by dropping the ball just over the canvas. Amy, although he ran
hard and reached the ball, failed to play it. Another serve was returned
low and hard to the left of the court, came back in a high lob almost to
the back line, sailed again across the canvas with barely an inch to
spare and finally landed in the net. Holt looked worried then. If he
lost the next ace he would have lost the set. So he tried to serve one
that would settle the matter, but only banged it into the net. The next
one Amy had no trouble with and sped it back along the side line to the
corner. But Holt was there and got it nicely and again lobbed. Amy
awaited with poised racket and Holt scurried to the rear of the court.
Then down came Amy’s racket and the ball sailed across almost to the
back line and bounded high, and although Holt jumped for it, he missed
it and it lodged hard and fast in the back net.

“He might do worse, I dare say,” returned Clint carelessly.

happened to Amy’s glad socks
“What I haven’t heard explained yet,” said Steve Edwards, “is what’s
happened to Amy’s glad socks. Why the sobriety, Amy?”

“Gee, I’ll bet that was a big relief to him,” said Steve Edwards. “I
feel sort of sorry for those burglars, fellows. They haven’t a ghost of
a show now.”

“Easy, easy!” The stranger held up a hand. “I thought from what I saw
that this gentleman was quite neutral. How about it?” He turned
to Clint.