The work of training proceeded rapidly and successfully to its conclusion as the end of March approached. Each afternoon the cubs fought out their losing battle with the regulars on the diamond. The latter were getting into splendid shape, and their opponents had almost forgotten what it felt like to win a game. Nevertheless, they never gave up, or slackened their efforts, for the net was drawing closer and closer about them day by day. Every now and then a youngster would drop out of the race. He was not yet ready for the big game, and had either been sold by the manager, farmed out to a minor league, or released unconditionally. Of the cub pitchers, only two remained, Locke and Elgin. They were both remarkably good in their way, and the other players were divided as to their relative merits. The almost universal conclusion was that Brennan would keep both with the organization unless something unexpected occurred to give him reason for changing his mind. Lefty worked strenuously without a let-up. He knew his doubtful points almost as well as the manager himself, and strove with all his might to correct them. Hard as the labor was physically, the southpaw found it anything but disagreeable. He was well liked by most of the regulars and a great many of the cubs. In Buck Fargo he found a real chum whom he came to admire and think better of every day. When the diminishing number of players made a readjustment of rooms at the hotel desirable, Locke accepted with alacrity the big backstop’s invitation to come in with him, an arrangement which proved pleasant and satisfactory. With Bert Elgin and his little group of cronies, the southpaw had nothing whatever to do. The former had apparently resigned himself to the inevitable, and, since it looked as if both cub pitchers were going to be retained, he seemed to have given up his efforts to injure his rival. There were just two things which marred Lefty’s pleasure and absolute peace of mind. The first was Jim Brennan’s attitude of noncommittal impassiveness. Try as he would, the southpaw found it impossible to break down the barrier of reserve between them. No matter how good a showing the cub might make on the field, he never succeeded in eliciting a word of praise from the manager. The latter always gave the young twirler an impression of withholding judgment, a feeling that he was continually searching for something in Locke which he was constantly expecting but had failed to find. At first Lefty thought it was simply his ordinary manner. Then, when he noticed the manager unbend time after time to others, he reached the conclusion that Brennan had never forgotten the circumstances of the recruit’s arrival at training camp, and that he still felt resentment at the manner in which Locke had been, as it were, thrust down his throat.