There were then forty-six candidates; not so many for a school which held that term one hundred and eighty-four students. Still, as some eighty of the latter number were either Junior School pupils or members of the fourth class, and in both cases ineligible for school teams, perhaps the showing wasn’t so bad, after all. Of the forty-six, eleven had played with last season’s first team at one time or another, although only five had taken part in the Wolcott series, and seven more had been second team members. Most of the rest had had more or less experience playing scrub baseball or, like Clif and Tom, were newcomers at Wyndham. A number had won fame in other sports, for the squad included nearly a dozen football players, several of the recently disbanded basket ball team, several track men and three fellows who had aided in the defeat of Wolcott on the ice. The latter were, besides Clif, Raiford and Coles. In spite of the monotony, those drills usually provided some amusement before they were over, and, on the whole, it was all pretty good fun. Encouragingly, winter withdrew over the blue hills to the north during the first week of March, and, while it took many mild days to thaw the ground out, by the middle of the month word came that, barring more rain or snow, the baseball candidates could count on getting out of doors by the nineteenth. That announcement was cheering, for, although in lieu of the diamond the cage provided a fine practice space, every one longed to feel the spring of the turf under his feet and the wind in his face. It was evident that the latter longing was due to be satisfied, for no windier March ever visited Freeburg than this one. But, since neither rain nor snow intervened before the anxiously awaited Wednesday, the wind proved a friend rather than a foe, ably aiding the sun to dry the already greening sod of the field. And on Wednesday, in the face of a tearing westerly gale, but under the bluest of blue skies, the Wyndham baseball squad romped out of the locker room and across to the practice diamond as gayly as a lot of colts turned out to pasture. I would like to be able to narrate that Clif and Tom had applied themselves so diligently to the work in hand and showed such aptitude for baseball that they were now marked members of the squad. But I can’t. Their diligence had been――well, let us say normal. At times it had been plainly in evidence; at other times it had waned. Indoor practice doesn’t arouse enthusiasm, as a rule, after the novelty has worn off. In short, when the squad went out to the field that Wednesday afternoon Clif and Tom were just two possibilities amongst two score.