Ken.

"Stop callin' me Mister!" yelled Worry. "Now, put 'em where I hold my
hands--inside corner... outside corner... again... inside now, low...
another... a fast one over, now... high, inside. Oh, Peg, this ain't
right. I ain't seein' straight. I think I'm dreamin'. Come on with 'em!"

Fast and true Ken sped the balls into Worry's mitt. Seldom did the
coach have to move his hands at all.

"Peg Ward, did you know that pitchin' was all control, puttin' the ball
where you wanted to?" asked Worry, stopping once more.

"No, I didn't," replied Ken.

"How did you learn to peg a ball as straight as this?"

Ken told him how he had thrown at marks all his life.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Worry seemed not to be able to get
over Ken's backwardness. "Look at the sleepless nights and the gray
hairs you could have saved me." He stamped around as if furious, yet
underneath the surface Ken saw that the coach was trying to hide his
elation. "Here now," he shouted, suddenly, "a few more, and _peg_ 'em!
See? Cut loose and let me see what steam you've got!"

Ken whirled with all his might and delivered the ball with all his
weight in the swing. The ball seemed to diminish in size, it went so
swiftly. Near the plate it took an upward jump, and it knocked Worry's
mitt off his hand.

Worry yelled out, then he looked carefully at Ken, but he made no effort
to go after the ball or pick up the mitt.

"Did I say for you to knock my block off?... Come here, Peg. You're only
a youngster. Do you think you can keep that? Are you goin' to let me teach
you to pitch? Have you got any nerve? Are you up in the air at the thought
of Place and Herne?"

Then he actually hugged Ken, and kept hold of him as if he might get away.
He was panting and sweating. All at once he sat down on one of the braces
of the bleachers and began mopping his face. He seemed to cool down, to
undergo a subtle change.

"Peg," he said, quietly, "I'm as bad as some of 'em fat-head directors....
You see I didn't have no kind of a pitcher to work on this spring. I kept
on hopin'. Strange why I didn't quit. And now--my boy, you're a kid, but
you're a natural born pitcher."

XI

STATE UNIVERSITY GAME

Arthurs returned to the diamond and called the squad around him. He might
have been another coach from the change that was manifest in him.

"Boys, I've picked the varsity, and sorry I am to say you all can't be on
it. Ward, Dean, McCord, Raymond, Weir,