"Say, Freshie," he broke out, "that was a dandy ball you whiffed me with. You certainly had me guessing. If that swift one you curled around my neck had hit me, I would have been seeing stars and hearing the birdies sing. And I nearly broke my back reaching for that curve. You've surely got something on the ball." "Oh, you'd have got me all right, if I'd kept on," answered Bert. "That was probably just a fluke, and I was lucky enough to get away with it." "Well, you can call it a fluke if you like," rejoined Drake, "but to me it looked suspiciously like big league pitching. Go to it, my boy, and I'll root for you to make the team." Bert flushed with pleasure at this generous meed of praise, doubly grateful as coming from an upper class man and hero of the college diamond. Dick coming up just then, they said good-by to Drake and started toward their dormitory. "What's this I hear about you, Bert?" asked Dick; "you've certainly made yourself solid with Ainslee. I accidentally heard him telling one of the assistant coaches that, while of course he couldn't be sure until he'd tried you out a little more, he thought he'd made a find." "One swallow doesn't make a summer," answered Bert. "I had Drake buffaloed all right, but I only pitched two balls. He might knock me all over the lot to-morrow." "Sufficient unto the day are the hits thereof," rejoined Dick; "the fact is that he _didn't_ hit you, and he has the surest eye in college. If he had fouled them, even, it would have been different, but Ainslee said he missed them by a mile. And even at that you weren't at full speed, as he told you not to cut loose to-day." "Well," said Bert, "if the lightning strikes my way, all right. But now I've got to get busy on my 'Sci' work, or I'll surely flunk to-morrow."