Mike, who had moved his chair into the shade and was dozing over his newspaper, looked up sleepily and nodded as Wayne passed through the fence. Outside, the smile faded from the boy’s face. The humour had quite gone from the situation now. He had failed and there was nothing to do but go back to Medfield. The thought didn’t please him. To be sure, he had prepared Jim Mason and the others for his return by a prediction that he wouldn’t make good, but it came to him now that he hadn’t believed in that prediction, that, deep down inside of him, he had all along expected to succeed. No, returning to Medfield didn’t appeal to him a bit. Presently, as he walked along in the full glare of a merciless noonday sun, anger ousted dejection. Steve Milburn had no right to turn him down like that. The club’s scout had guaranteed him a try-out and the manager ought to give it to him. Wayne told himself that several times, and the more often he said it, the more convinced he became of the truth of it, until, having reached the armory corner and turned toward the Bemis House, he was in a condition of perspiration and indignation. Sight of the Congress House crystallised the indignation into resolution. He had a right to a fair trial and he would have it. He would have it if he stayed in Harrisville all summer! From that verdict to reckoning up his money and comparing the amount to the requirements of a prolonged sojourn in the city was a short step. He had a little over ten dollars left, or would have when he had paid for his room at the hotel, and ten dollars would not, he reflected, keep two hungry boys and a dog from starvation very long. Then he remembered June’s savings and cheered up again. Using June’s money was something he didn’t like to do, something he wouldn’t do under ordinary circumstances, but this was no ordinary crisis. Wayne felt that justice and honour were involved. He was standing up for his rights. June’s money should be used, if necessary, for the Cause! He wondered whether it might not be well to apply to the law for assistance, but he abandoned that idea quickly. Lawyers were, as he had always heard, expensive helpers. And, besides, what was the good of a try-out if nothing came of it? And if he antagonised Mr. Milburn too much nothing would come of it. All the manager needed to do was to give him the try-out and say that he didn’t suit. Next Wayne thought of the owner of the club, Mr. John J. Badger. Or was it John K.? He might seek Mr. Badger and put the situation up to him. But then, that, too, would increase the manager’s ire and probably accomplish harm rather than good. No, what was to be done must be done tactfully, if firmly, he decided. He must persuade Mr. Milburn to give him the try-out of his own free will. Only, how?