“Well, I hit! And that’s more than I can do now.” “You’ll get onto it,” soothed Clif. “It takes time.” “Just the same, I still think Tusks ought to let us hit the way it’s easiest for us to hit,” said Tom doggedly. “After all, it’s results that count, isn’t it? Sure! Well, then!” “Probably Mr. Wadleigh thinks the results will be better when you thoroughly learn his way of batting,” said Loring. “I notice that men like Baker and Cobb hit about the way Mr. Wadleigh is teaching.” “Back numbers!” snorted Tom. “Now this guy Clouter Hearn――” “All right,” agreed Loring imperturbably, “let’s take some who aren’t. Sisler or Speaker, for example――” “But, heck, I don’t know how those fellows bat,” protested Tom, “and you don’t either. You say――” “But I do know,” answered Loring, smilingly. “I never saw them play, but I’ve got pictures of them at bat.” “Pictures!” grumbled Tom. “Well, I guess I could find plenty of guys who hit over three hundred and don’t do it the way Tusks wants us to. I say every man for himself when it comes to hitting the old pill. It’s hits that count, no matter whether you get ’em standing on your two feet or on your left ear, by heck!” “Right,” laughed Loring, “but the trouble is, Tom, that you can’t get them standing on your left ear, nor your right ear. As I understand it, and I’ve been out to most every practice, as you know, Tusks has to teach one method to all you fellows alike, and he’s teaching the one he considers to be the best. Isn’t that the way you understand it?” “The weak point about Tusks,” remarked Clif regretfully, “is that he never saw Clouter Hearn play!” “Shut up,” said Tom, grinning. “Oh, I don’t say Tusks isn’t all right, Loring. And I suppose he does have to teach one style to the lot of us. And I’m willing enough to bat the way he says, even if I still think I can do better batting my own way, but, Sacred Ibis of the River Nile, fellows, I can’t get the hang of his way! I start all right and then Purdy or Frosty gets my goat and I forget all about acting pretty and Tusks is on my neck again. But, heck, what’s the use of worrying about it, anyway? I’ve got as much chance of making the big team as a pig has to fly. Why should I lose weight over my batting?” “What’s the matter,” asked Clif mildly, “with playing on the second? We can’t all be heroes, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a lot of fun out of it, Tom. Besides, as Mr. Babcock told us last fall when we were on the scrub eleven, it’s the lowly second team that teaches the first how to play! He also serves, you know, who only sits and――”