st them." Then as they walked toward
the cage Ken forced himself to ask genially: "Raymond, what're you
trying for? And you, Weir?"

"Wull, if it's any of your fresh business, I'm not _trying_ for any
place. I'm going to play infield. You can carry my bat," replied Raymond,
sarcastically.

"Much obliged," retorted Ken, "I'm not going to substitute. I've a
corner on that varsity infield myself."

Weir glanced at them with undisguised disdain. "You can save yourselves
useless work by not trying for my position. I intend to play infield."

"Wull, puff-up, now, puff-up!" growled Raymond.

Thus the three self-appointed stars of the varsity bandied words
among themselves as they crossed the field. At the cage door they
became separated to mingle with the pushing crowd of excited boys
in uniforms.

By dint of much squeezing and shoulder-work Ken got inside the cage.
He joined the squad in the upper end and got in line for the batting.
Worry Arthurs paced wildly to and fro yelling for the boys to hit. A
dense crowd of students thronged the platform and laughed, jeered, and
stormed at the players. The cage was in such an uproar that Arthurs
could scarcely be heard. Watching from the line Ken saw Weir come to
bat and stand aggressively and hit the ball hard. It scattered the flock
of fielders. Then Raymond came along, and, batting left-handed, did
likewise. Arthurs stepped forward and said something to both. After
Ken's turn at bat the coach said to him: "Get out of here. Go run round
the track. Do it every day. Don't come back until Monday."

As Ken hurried out he saw and felt the distinction with which he was
regarded by the many players whom he crowded among in passing. When
he reached the track he saw Weir, Raymond, and half a dozen other
fellows going round at a jog-trot. Weir was in the lead, setting the
pace. Ken fell in behind.

The track was the famous quarter-mile track upon which Murray trained
his sprinters. When Ken felt the spring of the cinder-path in his feet,
the sensation of buoyancy, the eager wildfire pride that flamed over
him, he wanted to break into headlong flight. The first turn around the
track was delight; the second pleasure in his easy stride; the third
brought a realization of distance. When Ken had trotted a mile he was
not tired, he still ran easily, but he began to appreciate that his
legs were not wings. The end of the second mile found him sweating
freely and panting.

Two miles were