Absorbed as he was in his studies, however, he spent enough time in athletic sports to keep himself in superb physical condition. His was the old Greek ideal of a "sound mind in a sound body." His favorite sport was baseball, and, like most healthy young Americans, he was intensely fond of the great game. In public school and high school he had always "made the team." Although at times he had played every position in the infield and outfield and behind the bat, he soon gravitated towards the pitcher's box, and for the last three years had played that position steadily. He was easily the best "flinger" in the Inter-Scholastic League, and had received more than one invitation to join some of the semi-professional teams that abound in the great city. He elected, however, to remain purely and simply an amateur. Even when a "big league" scout, who had watched him play, gave him a quiet tip that his club would take him on the Spring training trip to Texas and pay all his expenses, with a view to finding out whether he was really "major league timber," the offer did not tempt him. He had no idea of making a business of his chosen sport, but simply a pleasant though strenuous recreation. With him, it was "sport for sport's sake"; the healthy zest of struggle, the sheer physical delight in winning. And now, as they talked over the coming year, the athletic feature also came to the fore. "I wonder if I'll have the slightest show to make the baseball team," said Bert. "I suppose, as a newcomer I'll be a rank outsider." "Don't you believe that for a minute," replied Dick warmly. "Of course there'll be lots of competition and a raft of material to pick from. I suppose when the coach sends out the call for candidates in the Spring, there'll be dozens of would-be players and a bunch too of have-beens that will trot out on the diamond to be put through their paces. One thing is certain, though, and that is that you'll get your chance. There may be a whole lot of snobbery in college life--though there isn't half as much as people think--but, out on the ball field, it's a pure democracy. The only question there is whether you can deliver the goods. If you can, they don't care whether you're a new man or an old-timer. All they want is a winner." "Well," chimed in Tom, "they'll find that they have one in Bert. Just show them a little of the 'big medicine' you had in that last game with Newark High when you put out the side on three pitched balls. Gee, I never saw a more disgusted bunch of ball tossers. Just when they thought they had the game all sewed up and put away in their bat bag, too." "That's all right," said Bert, "but you must remember that those high school fellows were a different proposition from a bunch of seasoned old college sluggers. When I come up against them, if I ever do, they'll probably smash the back fences with the balls I feed to them."