slugging Graves. Cheer up,
Peg! Even if Graves has got all the kids on his side, which I doubt,
Homans and I are with you. And you can just bet that Worry Arthurs will
side with us.... Now run along, for I must study."

This conversation was most illuminating to Ken. He left Reddy's room
all in a quiver of warm pleasure and friendliness at the great sprinter's
quiet praise and advice. To make such a friend was worth losing a hundred
friends like Graves. He dismissed the third-baseman and his scheming from
mind, and believed Reddy as he had believed Arthurs. But Ken thought much
of what he divined was a glimmering of the inside workings of a college
baseball team. He had one wild start of rapture at the idea of becoming
captain of Wayne's varsity next year, and then he dared think no more
of that.

The day dawned for Ken to go to Washington, and he was so perturbed at
his responsibilities that he quite forgot to worry about the game Wayne
had to play in his absence. Arthurs intended to pitch Schoonover in that
game, and had no doubt as to its outcome. The coach went to the station
with Ken, once more repeated his instructions, and saw him upon the
train. Certainly there was no more important personage on board that
Washington Limited than Ken Ward. In fact, Ken was so full of importance
and responsibility that he quite divided his time between foolish pride
in his being chosen to "size up" the great college teams and fearful
conjecture as to his ability.

At any rate, the time flew by, the trip seemed short, and soon he was
on the Georgetown field. It was lucky that he arrived early and got
a seat in the middle of the grand-stand, for there was a throng in
attendance when the players came on the diamond. The noisy bleachers,
the merry laughter, the flashing colors, and especially the bright
gowns and pretty faces of the girls gave Ken pleasurable consciousness
of what it would mean to play before such a crowd. At Wayne he had
pitched to empty seats. Remembering Worry's prophecy, however, he
was content to wait.

From that moment his duty absorbed him. He found it exceedingly
fascinating to study the batters, and utterly forgot his responsibility.
Not only did he jot down on his card his idea of the weakness and
strength of the different hitters, but he compared what he would have
pitched to them with what was actually pitched. Of course, he had no
test of his comparison, but he felt intuitively that he had the bette