Later two more balls were started going, and then the idea was to pass back and forth as quickly as possible, trying to catch the other fellows unawares. That was fun, and the cage was soon ringing with laughter. Mr. Talbot, taking his place at one side of the floor, enjoyed it as much as any of them. A few days after that the battery candidates were given a half-hour to themselves and practice for the rest began at four-fifteen. Occasionally Tom Pollock reported and pitched to Sam Craig or to Jack Speyer, who was slated as Sam’s understudy. With Tom in the pitching practice were Toby Williams and Carl Moran. Toby Williams was an able substitute for Tom, but Moran, who was only sixteen, had a lot to learn. Joe frequently went early to the cage and watched the pitching staff at work, and his admiration for Tom Pollock increased vastly as he noted the ease and certainty with which that youth shot the ball into Sam Craig’s waiting glove. Batting practice began about the first of March. A net was stretched near the further end of the cage and the candidates took turns facing either Williams or Moran; infrequently, Tom Pollock. They were supposed to merely tap the ball, but sometimes they became over-eager and the sphere would go crashing into the iron netting at the other end of the cage and the pitcher, arising from the floor, would pathetically request the batters to “Cut out the slugging!” One or two of the early volunteers dropped out of the squad for one reason or another and their places were taken by newcomers. By the first week in March, at which time, if the spring was a normal one, they usually got out of doors, the baseball candidates were in hard and fit condition. Already Coach Talbot was able to form a fairly correct idea of the possibilities of most of the forty-one or -two fellows who now comprised the squad. George Mifflin, the manager, was custodian of a mysterious book, in which, opposite the various names, was set down much interesting information which the fellows would have given much to read. In this, at Bat’s command, Mifflin set down each day little marks and figures after the names, memoranda practically understandable by Bat alone. Now and then came one of those cross-country jaunts――there were five of them that season――and now and then the squad was taken outside, where the footing was not too soft, and allowed to throw and catch. But with these exceptions, no outdoor work was indulged in until the second week in March, for on the fifth a miniature blizzard swept down the valley, undoing the good work performed by a fortnight of mild weather and drying winds. That blizzard had a lot of harsh things said about it. It was probably as unpopular a visitation of snow and sleet and ice and, subsequently, rain and slush as ever visited Amesville! But there was nothing for it but to wait for better conditions and, in the meanwhile, continue the drudgery of indoor practice, a drudgery