The train drew up at Washington just then, and the laughing crowd hustled to get their traps together. Here they played the last game of the season with the strong Georgetown University nine, and just "nosed them out" in an exciting game that went eleven innings. While in the city they visited the Washington Monument, that matchless shaft of stone that dwarfs everything else in the National Capital. Of course the boys wanted to try to catch a ball dropped from the top, but the coach would not consent. "Only two or three men in the world have been able to do that," he said, "and they took big chances. I've had too much trouble getting you fellows in good condition, to take any needless risks." So the boys turned homeward, bronzed, trained, exultant over their string of well-earned victories, and, in the approving phrase of Reddy, "fit to fight for a man's life." Ainslee left them at New York to join his team amid a chorus of cheers from the young athletes that he had done so much to form. From now on, it was "up to them" to justify his hopes and bring one more pennant to the dear old Alma Mater. CHAPTER V WINNING HIS SPURS "Play ball!" shouted the umpire, and the buzz of conversation in the grandstand ceased. All eyes were fastened on the two teams about to enter on the first important game of the season, and people sat up straight and forgot everything else, so great was their interest in the forthcoming event. All the games that the Blues had played up to this time had been with teams over which they felt reasonably sure of winning a victory, but the nine they had to face to-day was a very different proposition. Most of the young fellows composing it were older and had had more experience than the Blues, and the latter knew that they would have to do their very utmost to win, if win they did. The thing they most relied on, however, was the fact that their pitcher was very good, and they believed that he would probably win the day for them. Of course, they had a lot of confidence in themselves, too, but the importance of a steady, efficient pitcher to any team can hardly be exaggerated. It gives them a solid foundation on which to build up a fast, winning team, and nobody realized this better than Mr. Ainslee, their veteran coach. "Only give me one good pitcher," he was wont to say, "and I'll guarantee to turn out a team that will win the college championship." The star on the college team this year, Winters, was, without doubt, an exceptionally good pitcher. He had considerable speed and control, and his curves could generally be counted on to elude the opposing batsmen. He was the only son in a wealthy family, however, and, as a consequence, had a very exaggerated idea of his own importance. He was inclined to look down on the fellows who did not travel in what he called "his set," and often went out of his way to make himself disagreeable to them.