every single
thing you wanted--just as well as I could do it. What are you afraid of?"

"You're gettin' swelled on yourself," said the coach, deliberately.

The blood rushed to Ken's face until it was scarlet. He was so astounded
and hurt that he could not speak. Worry looked at him once, then turning
hastily away, he walked to the window.

"Peg, it ain't much wonder," he went on, smoothly, "and I'm not holdin'
it against you. But I want you to forget yourself--"

"I've never had a thought of myself," retorted Ken, hotly.

"I want you to go in to-day like--like an automatic machine," went
on Worry, as if Ken had not spoken. "There'll be a crowd out, the
first of the season. Mebbe they'll throw a fit. Anyway, it's our first
big game. As far as the university goes, this is our trial. The students
are up in the air; they don't know what to think. Mebbe there won't be
a cheer at first.... But, Peg, if we beat Herne to-day they'll tear down
the bleachers."

"Well, all I've got to say is that you can order new lumber for the
bleachers--because we're going to win," replied Ken, with a smouldering
fire in his eyes.

"There you go again! If you're not stuck on yourself, it's too much
confidence. You won't be so chipper about three this afternoon, mebbe.
Listen! The Herne players got into town last night, and some of them
talked a little. It's just as well you didn't see the morning papers.
It came to me straight that Gallagher, the captain, and Stern, the
first-baseman, said you were pretty good for a kid freshman, but a
little too swelled to stand the gaff in a big game. They expect you
to explode before the third innin'. I wasn't goin' to tell you, Peg,
but you're so--"

"They said that, did they?" cried Ken. He jumped up with paling cheek
and blazing eye, and the big hand he shoved under Worry's nose trembled
like a shaking leaf. "What I won't do to them will be funny! Swelled!
Explode! Stand the gaff! Look here, Worry, maybe it's true, but I don't
believe it.... _I'll beat this Herne team!_ Do you get that?"

"Now you're talkin'," replied Worry, with an entire change of manner.
"You saw the Herne bunch play. They can field, but how about hittin'?"

"Gallagher, Stern, Hill, and Burr are the veterans of last year's varsity,"
went on Ken, rapidly, as one who knew his subject. "They can hit--if they
get what they like."

"Now you're talkin'. How about Gallagher?"

"He hits speed. He couldn't hit a slow ball with a