re was another boy on the field who was
quite as glum and downcast as Hooker himself. This was Phil Springer,
who remained seated on the bench while his team-mates and a portion of
the enthusiastic crowd swarmed, cheering, around Grant and lifted him
to their shoulders.

Presently he realized that this behavior on his part must attract
attention the moment the excitement relaxed, and he got up with the
intention of hurrying at once to the gymnasium. Barely had he started,
however, when something brought him to a halt, and beneath his breath
he muttered:

"That won't do. They'd notice that, too, and sus-say I was jealous."

He was jealous--bitterly so; but he forced himself to join the cheering
crowd and to make a half-hearted pretense of rejoicing. All the while
he was thinking that Grant owed everything to him, and that perhaps he
had been foolish in training a fellow to fill his shoes in such an
emergency. For Phil had long entertained the ambition of becoming the
first pitcher on the academy nine, and this year he had been fully
confident until the present hour that the goal he sought was his beyond
dispute.

The victors did not forget to cheer courteously for the vanquished, and
Barville returned the compliment with a cheer for Oakdale.

So many persons wished to shake hands with Rodney Grant that he
laughingly protested, saying they would put his "wing out of
commission." Suddenly perceiving Phil, the Texan pushed aside those
between them, sprang forward and placed a hand on Springer's shoulder,
crying:

"Here's my mentor. Only for him, I'd never been able to do it. I owe
what little I know about pitching to Springer. Let's give him a cheer,
fellows."

They did so, but that cheer lacked the spontaneous enthusiasm and
genuine admiration which had been thrown into the cheering for Grant,
something which Springer did not fail to note.

"Oh, thanks," said Phil, weakly returning the warm grasp of Rod's
strong hand. "I didn't do anything--except blow up."

Under cover of the chatter, joking and laughter, while they were
changing their clothes in the dressing room of the gymnasium, Grant,
observing the dejection Springer could not hide to save himself, again
uttered some friendly words of encouragement.

"Don't you feel so bad about it, old partner," he said. "The best
professional pitchers in the business get their bumps sometimes, and I
might have got mine, all right, if I'd started the game on t