ter. His pulse was steady,
his control was good, and the Springfield batters seemed unable to do
much with his drop. When the score-keeper marked the last play and closed
his book, Chester had won 5 runs to 3.

"Didn't I tell you?" Ted Carter cried jubilantly. "Some pitching!"

"Sure," said Tim. "I doped out what the batters couldn't hit, and he
threw me what I wanted."

"There's a lot of pitchers can't do that," the captain said lightly, and
shot a quick look at the pitcher.

Don pretended that he had not heard; but he could not keep the color from
rising in his cheeks. All during the game Tim had seemed to rasp him a
bit--not enough to spoil his work, but enough to keep him on edge.

He had thought, after last night's meeting, that there would be a big
change in Tim. Instead, it began to look as though Tim would continue to
be the same wild, heedless, quarrelsome lad he had always been.

"Today's tussle will give you confidence," said Ted in his ear. "You'll
be able to give them all a fight now."

Don flashed a smile, and then the smile was gone. So was the thrill of
his triumph. It was hard, this thinking you had weathered a storm and
then finding that you hadn't.

At supper Barbara and his father asked him about the game. He told of his
success, but with none of the flash and fire of a conqueror. Barbara
caught his glance and smiled at him understandingly.

"More trouble with Tim?" she asked.

"N--no; not exactly trouble. You see--" And then he related what had
happened last night, and the great hopes that had come, and how Tim had
acted today.

"Don," said Mr. Strong, "do you remember when you learned to pitch an
outcurve?"

"Yes, sir."

"You used to pitch to Alex Davidson out there in the yard. One day you
came running into the shop and shouted that you had it, and I went out to
watch, and you couldn't throw the curve again."

"But I got it again next day," Don said quickly.

"And now you can pitch it any time you want to," said his father.

Don frowned. This was too deep! He saw Barbara smiling and nodding as
much as to say, "Think it out, Don." Suddenly he straightened.

"You mean that because Tim played fair that once--"

"Just the way you pitched your curve that once," said his father.

Don sighed. It was funny how his troubles dropped away when he brought
them home.

Monday there was another patrol meeting. Tim attended, but an imp of
perverseness seemed to rule him. It was the first