“We’ve got a lot of good material left over from last year to build on, and we’ve got a fine captain.” There was a real cheer this time. “Captain Leland is going to say a few words to you presently, and I want you to give him strict attention. And we’ve got, I am sure, a fine lot of new material to build with. So there’s no reason why we shouldn’t get off to a running start and find our stride early. One thing I must caution you about, fellows, and I say this earnestly. Don’t think because you’re busy with baseball that you can neglect your studies. The surest way to prove to me that you aren’t deserving of a position on the team is to let down in class. If you do that you can’t be depended on to finish out the season, and there’s no use wasting time now on fellows who aren’t going to last and who won’t be on hand when they’re needed most. Now, fellows, Captain Leland.” Leland, already standing, wrapped his hands more tightly in the hem of an old gray sweat-shirt and faced the forty-odd boys while the chorus of “A-a-ay!” died away. He was plainly embarrassed, but “Hurry”――he had been christened Horace――wasn’t the sort to allow embarrassment to keep him from doing what he had to do. Nor even to make him hesitate. He began speaking before the shout of recognition and approval had quite ceased, and Loring, listening and watching from beyond the wire screening, lost the first few words. “――A few things I’d like to tell you about what we intend to do this year. Coach Connover has spoken of the schedule and said that it’s good. And it is. But it’s hard, too. We’ve got teams like Toll’s and Broadmoor this year to buck against, and they’re good. And plenty of hard teams that we’ve played before: Murray, Hoskins, Horner, Cupples. We’re playing two games with Horner, and two with Highland and Freeburg. And maybe only two with Wolcott, if we fight hard!” That called for applause and it was forthcoming. Hurry didn’t look at first glance like a captain of baseball, or, for that matter, any sort of a captain. He was of medium height, rather thin, with very light-brown hair and a somewhat colorless complexion. Rather a wisp of a chap as athletes go. But a moment’s observation corrected first judgment. His steel-blue eyes were keen, his mouth was determined and his countenance as a whole was, save when he smiled that infrequent and oddly crooked smile of his, seriously intent. His movements were abrupt, and when he started away his head always dropped until his chin nearly rested on his chest. Some one had once said that Hurry did that to decrease resistance to the wind! As a matter of fact, he was of the nervous, quick-thinking and quick-acting type, a fellow who went into a thing with, as the expression is, “all four feet,” and the lowered head merely indicated that Hurry, having started for some other place, was earnestly concentrating on how to get there as speedily as possible and what to do when he arrived.