“Don’t believe yourself, my boy. You seem to have forgotten that he covered first for us when we played against Fort Worth.” “No, I have not forgotten. But he was in different condition then. He had worked himself down during the trip across the continent. There was some life in him then, but now----” “You shall see there is some life in him now. I can wake him up, if anybody can, and I’ll do it. He will do anything for me.” “Perhaps he might if he thought it of any importance, but he will not think so about a game against the regulars. He’ll say it’s simply to give the regulars practice, and he won’t stir up.” “You’ll see what he will do after I talk to him. He will surprise you, and you won’t be the only one.” “All right; have your own way. I know you will, no matter what I say. Who are the others?” “Diamond on second.” “He’s all right.” “Rattleton on third.” “He’s fair, but Flobert is a better man.” “I’d rather have Rattleton, for he is another fellow who will break his neck, if necessary, for me. I can get out of him all there is in him, and Flobert sulks sometimes.” “All right. Suit yourself. Who will play short?” “Haven’t decided on that position yet. There are two or three to choose from.” “Take Fales.” “What Fales?” “Freshman. Good player. I recommend him.” “Well, we’ll take Fales if you say so.” “Now, how have you fixed the outfield. Who is in right?” “Tom Thornton.” “Good man?” “Pretty good. I’ve taken him for his batting. If he could play as well all round as he can bat, he’d be on the regulars.” “Middle?” “Jones.” “What, the fellow you call Dismal?” “Same.” “Why, he’s too sad and slow to play ball!” “Wait till you have seen him. He can wake up, and he’ll throw almost as well as Ephraim Gallup. If he gets a good chance, he’ll surprise somebody.” “Who’s the left fielder?” “Joe Gamp.” Hodge gasped. “That beats all!” he cried. “Why, that fellow is a regular blunder-heels. He can’t play marbles!” “Wait and see. He’ll be another surprise, or I’m mistaken. He is a slugger with a stick, and no mistake. Tried to fool him one day, and he seemed able to rap out anything I gave him. He dug ’em out of the dirt with his bat, took ’em two feet off from the base, and reached up into the air and drove ’em out. The pitcher who tries to fool him will drop dead before the game is over.” “Well,” said Bart, slowly, “you have seemed to be a pretty good judge of ball players, old man, but I think you are away off this time. You have named the most confounded aggregation ever seen around here.” “The other side will be confounded,” smiled Frank. “Wait and see, old man. All I ask of you is to do your prettiest.” “You may be sure I will.” CHAPTER XIV. OUT OF PRACTICE.