e
next would strike it. They sprawled on the ground, rolled over, and
rooted in the dust. One skinned his nose on the carpet; another slid
the length of the board on his ear. All the time they kept running and
sliding, the coach shouted to them, and the audience roared with laughter.
But it was no fun for the sliders. Raymond made a beautiful slide, and
Graves was good, but all the others were ludicrous.

It was a happy day for Ken, and for all the candidates, when the coach
ordered them out on the field. This was early in March. The sun was
bright, the frost all out of the ground, and a breath of spring was in
the air. How different it was from the cold, gloomy cage! Then the mocking
students, although more in evidence than before, were confined to the
stands and bleachers, and could not so easily be heard. But the presence
of the regular varsity team, practising at the far end of Grant Field,
had its effect on the untried players.

The coach divided his players into two nines and had them practise
batting first, then fielding, and finally started them in a game,
with each candidate playing the position he hoped to make on the
varsity.

It was a weird game. The majority of the twenty candidates displayed
little knowledge of baseball. School-boys on the commons could have
beaten them. They were hooted and hissed by the students, and before
half the innings were played the bleachers and stands were empty. That
was what old Wayne's students thought of Arthurs' candidates.

In sharp contrast to most of them, Weir, Raymond, and Graves showed
they had played the game somewhere. Weir at short-stop covered ground
well, but he could not locate first base. Raymond darted here and there
quick as a flash, and pounced upon the ball like a huge frog. Nothing
got past him, but he juggled the ball. Graves was a finished and
beautiful fielder; he was easy, sure, yet fast, and his throw from
third to first went true as a line.

Graves's fine work accounted for Ken Ward's poor showing. Both were
trying for third base, and when Ken once saw his rival play out on the
field he not only lost heart and became confused, but he instinctively
acknowledged that Graves was far his superior. After all his hopes and
the kind interest of the coach it was a most bitter blow. Ken had never
played so poor a game. The ball blurred in his tear-wet eyes and looked
double. He did not field a grounder. He muffed foul flies and missed
thrown balls. It d