He saw it at his feet an instant later, seized it and, raging at himself, sped it to Coles. But the deed was done by the time Wink got the ball. Two more runs had been scored, there was a man on first and there was still but one out. Wyndham sat down again, comparatively silent for once, and pondered defeat. Out in center field a miserable youth stared fixedly at the diamond, unheeding Sid Talbott’s “Hard luck, Clif!”, calling himself all the uncomplimentary things his mind could think of and wishing very, very hard that he didn’t have to walk in there presently and face that crowded stand. Yet the actuality wasn’t nearly so bad as the anticipation, for none of his teammates showed by word or look that he had failed them, while the audience, having witnessed a smart double play by Moore, Leland and Van Dyke, had for the time forgotten that fiasco of his. But Tom didn’t forget it. He watched gloomily while Talbott fanned, Van Dyke bunted to third baseman and was thrown out and Bud Moore popped an easy fly to shortstop. Then he listened gloomily while the defeat was discussed from every angle in the dressing room. And finally he sat, moody and disconsolate, in the bus and rattled and swayed back to Freeburg. He found no relief from the knowledge of defeat, as did the others, in talking largely of what would happen to-morrow. In fact, he was pretty certain that he would have no share in the morrow’s happenings! CHAPTER XXI WATTLES INTERVENES Returning from Cotterville, Tom alone of the four occupants of the car was downcast. Loring had discounted the defeat, Mr. Cooper accepted it with cheerful philosophy and Wattles maintained a thoughtful silence that, unnoted by the others, was at moments slightly perturbed, even anxious. He listened to the discussion, which lasted most of the way to Freeburg, but volunteered speech only once. Then he inquired of Loring: “If Mr. Tom had taken part, sir, we might have won, do you think?” Loring said “Yes,” and Tom grunted. “I might have been worse than any of them,” he said. “You can’t tell. One fellow slips up and then the whole infield goes on the blink. It’s catching!” “Just the same,” replied Loring, “I wish you were going to be in there to-morrow!” After the school had been reached, Wattles attended to Loring’s comfort and then with a cough said: “If you’ll not be needing me for a short time, sir, there’s a small matter I’d like to attend to.” Loring, studying the score he had kept of the afternoon’s game, nodded absently. “I’m all right. Don’t hurry back, Wattles.” “Thank you, sir.” Wattles set his black derby very carefully in place and departed.