LITMIR.BIZ

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Why, you actually had it pulled out! You held those fellows down and never gave them a single safe hit! That was wonderful work!"

      "Oh, I don't know. They are not such great batters."

      "Gordon found them pretty fast. I tell you some of those fellows are batters—good ones, too."

      "Well, they didn't happen to get onto my delivery."

      "Happen! happen! happen! There was no happen about it. They couldn't get onto you. You had them at your mercy. It was wonderful pitching, and I can lick the gun of a son—er—son of a gun that says it wasn't!"

      "I had a chance to size every man up while Gordon was pitching, and that gave me the advantage."

      "That makes me tired! Of course you had time to size them up; but you couldn't have kept them without a hit if you hadn't been a dandy pitcher. Your modesty is simply sickening sometimes!"

      Then Harry pranced up and down the room like am infuriated tiger, almost gnashing his teeth and foaming at the mouth.

      "If I didn't think I could pitch some I wouldn't try it." said Frank, quietly. "But I am not fool enough to think I am the only one. There are others."

      "Well, they are not freshmen, and I'll tell you that."

      "I don't know about that."

      "I do."

      "All right. Have it as you like it."

      "And you batted like a fiend. Twice at bat and two hits—a two-bagger and a three-bagger."

      "A single and a three-bagger, if you please."

      "Well, what's the matter with that? Whee jiz—mean jee whiz! Could anybody ask for anything more? You got the three-bagger just when it was needed most, and you would have saved the game if you had come to the bat in the last inning."

      "You think so, but it is all guesswork. I might have struck out."

      "You might, but you wouldn't. Oh, merry thunder! To think that a little single would have tied that game, and we couldn't get it! It actually makes me ill at the pit of my stomach!"

      The expression on Harry's face seemed to indicate that he told the truth, for he certainly looked ill.

      "Don't take it to heart so, my boy," said Frank. "The poor chaps earned that game, and they ought to have it. We'll win the last one of the series, and that's all we want. Do you want to bury poor old Harvard?"

      "You can't bury her so deep that she won't crawl out, and you know that. Those fellows are decidedly soon up at Cambridge, and Yale does well to get all she can from them. You can't tell what will happen next game. They have seen you, and they may have a surprise to spring on us. If we pulled this game off the whole thing would be settled now."

      "Don't think for a moment that I underestimate Harvard. She is Yale's greatest rival and is bound to do us when she can.

      "We made a good bid for the game to-day, but it wasn't our luck to win, and so we may as well swallow our medicine and keep still."

      "It wasn't a case of luck at all," spluttered Harry. "It was sheer bull-headedness, that's what it was! If Put had put you in long before he did the game might have been saved."

      "He didn't like to pull Gordon out, you see."

      "Well, if he's running this team on sentiment, the sooner he quits the better it will be for the team."

      Frank said nothing, but he could not help feeling that Harry was right. Managing a ball team is purely a matter of business, and if a manager is afraid to hurt anybody's feelings he is a poor man for the position.

      "Why didn't he put you in in the first place?" asked Harry.

      "I don't know. I suppose he had reasons."

      "Oh, yes, he had reasons! And I rather think I know what they were. I am sure I do."

      "What were they?"

      "Didn't you expect to pitch the game from the start to-day?"

      "Yes, I did."

      "I thought so."

      Harry nodded, as if fully satisfied that he understood the whole matter.

      "Well," said Frank, a bit sharply, "you have not explained yourself. I am curious to know why I was not put into the box at the start."

      "Well, I am glad to see you show some emotion, if it is nothing more than curiosity. I had begun to think you would not show as much as that."

      "Naturally I am curious."

      "Do you know that Paul Pierson, manager of the 'Varsity team, went on to see this game?"

      "Yes."

      "Why do you suppose he did so?"

      "Oh, he is acquainted with several Harvard fellows, and I presume he went to see them as much as to see the game."

      "He wasn't with any Harvard fellows at the game."

      "Well, what are you trying to get at?"

      "Don't be in a hurry," said Harry, who was now speaking with unusual calmness. "You regard Old Put as your friend?"

      "I always have."

      "But you think he didn't use you just right to-day?"

      "I will confess that I don't like to be used to fall back on with the hope that I may pull out a game somebody else has lost."

      Harry nodded his satisfaction.

      "I knew you would feel that way, unless you had suddenly grown foolish. It's natural and it's right. There is no reason why you shouldn't be the regular pitcher for our team, but still Gordon is regarded as the pitcher, while you are the change pitcher. Frank, there is a nigger in the woodpile."

      "You will have to make yourself clearer than that."

      "Putnam knew that Pierson was going to be present at the game."

      "Well?"

      "Pierson didn't go on to see any Harvard friends. He couldn't afford the time just at this season with all he has on his hands."

      "Go on."

      "Putnam knew Pierson was not there to see any Harvard men."

      "Oh, take your time."

      Harry grinned. He was speaking with such deliberation that he did not once twist his words or expressions about, as he often did when excited and in a hurry.

      "That's why you wasn't put in at the start-off," he declared.

      "What is why? You will have to make the whole matter plainer than you have so far. It is hazy."

      "Putnam did not want Pierson to see you pitch."

      "He didn't? Why not?"

      "Because Pierson was there for that very purpose."

      "Get out!"

      "I know what I am talking about. You have kept still about it, but Pierson himself has let the cat out of the bag."

      "What cat?"

      "He has told—confidentially, you know—that he has thoughts of giving you a trial on the regular team. The parties he told repeated it—confidentially, you know—to others. It finally came to my ears. Old Put heard of it. Now, while Old Put seems to be your friend, he doesn't want to lose you, and he had taken every precaution to keep you in the background. He has made Gordon more prominent, and he has not let you do much pitching for Pierson to see. He permitted you to go in to-day because he was afraid Gordon would go all to pieces, and he knew what a howl would go up if he didn't do something."

      Frank walked up and down the room. He did not permit himself to show any great amount of excitement, but there was a dark look on his handsome face that told he was aroused. Harry saw that his roommate was stirred up at last.

      "As I have said," observed Frank, halting and speaking grimly. "I have regarded

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