Seven to five was the final score, and the Amesville Blues, bat-bags and luggage in hand, went back to the trolley station with something of a swagger, followed by a throng of young Lynton citizens who tried to appease their disappointment by jeers and hoots. But the Blues could afford to be magnanimous and forgiving, and so they trudged ahead and paid no attention to their tormentors and were soon in the trolley car, speeding back to Amesville. Thorny crowded in beside Tom and asked many questions. Where had Tom learned to pitch? Was he going to try for the high school team next year? Didn’t he really have anything besides that out-shoot? And was it a fact that he had never pitched in a game before? Tom replied frankly and modestly and told Thorny how he had acquired what little skill he had. And Thorny was both amused and admiring. The idea of studying the art of pitching from a book of instructions struck him as terribly funny. “Well, anyway,” he declared finally, “you’ll make a pitcher all right, Tom, if you just keep on with it. I don’t know how good your stuff is, because I didn’t stand up to you, but it seemed to fool those Lynton chaps pretty well, and you know they batted me pretty hard in the spring. But what I like about you is your action in the box. I’ll bet you’re a born twirler, Tom. You were as cool as a cucumber----” “Oh, no, I wasn’t!” laughed Tom. “I was pretty nearly scared to death at first!” “But you didn’t show it! No one would ever have known it! And that’s the best part of it, don’t you see? It’s easy enough to look cool when you’re feeling that way, but it’s harder than thunder to do it when your nerves are all pulling every whichway. I know, because I’ve been through with it. The first game I ever pitched was in my second year at grammar school. We had a little twelve-year-old team and used to play out by the car barns. I knew how to curve a ball about once in five times and the first day I pitched I was scared blue. But no one ever knew it, I’ll bet! And I pitched rings around the other team because I bluffed them into thinking I was a perfect wonder!” Thorny laughed reminiscently. “If you haven’t got the goods, Tom, the next best thing is to make believe you have, I guess. Only, at that, you’ve got to make the bluff good! If you try for the nine next spring, you’ll make it, sure as shooting. There’s only Pete Farrar in sight for next year and he isn’t much.” “I’d like to play mighty well,” acknowledged Tom, “but you see I have to work after school and so I guess I couldn’t.” “Work be blowed!” responded Thorny as emphatically as inelegantly. “You’ll have to find someone to take your job, Tom. We can’t afford to lose a good pitcher on account of a little work. Cummings and Wright will have to find someone else, I guess.” But Tom shook his head. “I need the money, Brooks,” he said earnestly. “I couldn’t afford to give up my job. I’m sorry.”