of amusement. Might satisfy a kid who couldn't find
anything else to do. I thought likely you'd be using your motorcycle;
and, everything considered, I didn't suppose you'd care a rap about
fingering a baseball."

"If you could catch me," returned Roy, "I'd have you put on my glove
and see if I couldn't get 'em over a piece of plank the size of the
home plate; but you can't catch, and so I'm trying to see how often I
can hit that white shingle yonder. I actually hit it twice in
succession a few minutes ago."

"Huh!" grunted Herbert. "What's the good of that?"

"I'm trying to get control, you know. They say that's what I lack.
Even Eliot has acknowledged that I might pitch some if I wasn't so
wild."

Herbert burst into soft, half-mocking laughter. "'Hope springs eternal
in the human breast'," he quoted. "Nevertheless, good, plain, common
sense should teach you that you're wasting your time. You're not
wanted as a pitcher, and so you won't get a chance to do any twirling."

"You never can tell what may happen," returned Roy. "I never thought
Springer was so much, and I haven't any great confidence in Grant.
What if they should both get theirs? Eliot might be forced to give me
a show, and if that happens I'll deliver the goods----"

Rackliff snapped his yellow fingers. "You've got the baseball bug
bad," he said. "It's a disease. I suppose it has to have its run with
the fellows who become infected. All right, waste your time; but while
you're doing it, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a spin on your
motorcycle. There is some fun in that, I own up."

"Well, don't be gone long," said Roy. "I guess I'll get enough of this
in ten or fifteen minutes more, and I want to ride some myself
to-night."

Trundling out the machine, Rackliff heard the ball thudding again
against the back of the stable.

Friday afternoon Herbert did not appear at school. Hooker looked for
him in vain and wondered why he had remained away. Alone he watched
the boys practice a while when school was over, Grant doing his full
share of pitching to the batters. Despite prejudice and envy, Roy
could see that Springer's pupil was gaining confidence and beginning to
carry himself with the air of a real pitcher.

"But he hasn't had any experience," muttered the jealous and
unfortunate lad. "Wait till he gets into a game and they begin to bump
him. That temper of his will make him lose his head." Which was
evidence enough that