How it came about Sid, of course, would never tell. It was too new and too delightful an experience for him--to actually be paying attentions to some girl--to make it possible to discuss the matter with his chums. Sufficient to say that in the course of two weeks more there was another photograph in the room of the inseparables. Baseball matters began to occupy more and more attention at Randall. The team was being whipped into shape, and between Tom, Ed Kerr and the coach the lads were beginning to get rid of the uncertainty engendered by a winter of comparative idleness. "Have you arranged any games yet?" asked Tom of Ed one afternoon, following some sharp practice on the diamond. "We play Boxer Hall next week," answered the manager. "And I do hope we win. It means so much at the beginning of the season. How is the team, do you think?" "Do you mean ours or theirs?" "Ours, of course." "Fine, I should say," replied Tom. "You know who'll pitch against you when we play Boxer, I dare say," remarked Mr. Leighton, who had joined Tom and Ed. "No. Who?" "Your old enemy, Langridge. He's displaced Dave Ogden, who twirled for them last season. But you're not frightened, are you?" "Not a bit of it! If there's anything that will make our fellows play fierce ball it's to know that Langridge--the fellow who almost threw our football team--is going to play against them. I couldn't ask a better tonic. Will they play on our grounds?" "No, we've got to go there. But don't let that worry you." There was sharp practice for the next few days, and Tom and his chums were put through "a course of sprouts" to quote Holly Cross. They did some ragged work, under the eagle eye of the coach, and things began to look bad, but it was only the last remnant of staleness disappearing, for the day before the game there was exhibited a noticeable stiffness, and a confidence that augured well for Randall. "The batting still leaves something to be desired," remarked Mr. Leighton, as practice was over for the day. "I have great hopes of Sid Henderson, though." "Yes, if----" began Tom. "If what?" asked the coach quickly. "If he doesn't go back on himself," finished the pitcher, but that was not what he had intended to say. He was thinking of Sid's queer actions of late--wondering what they portended, and what was the meaning of his chum's odd absences, for, only the night previous, Sid had gone out, following the receipt of a note, and had come in late, smelling vilely of tobacco. Fortunately he had escaped detection by the proctor, but he offered no explanation, and his manner was disturbed, and not like his usual one.