All conversation ceased in an instant. Arnold was by all odds the most skilful pitcher in the Berkshire League; and his record for the past two years had never been equaled in the history of the colleges. He was a tower of strength to the Park nine, and had won several notable victories for them by his masterly handling of the ball. Park College owed her success in baseball chiefly to Arnold’s steady nerve, good judgment, and skilful playing. He was not the captain of the nine, for, although the position had been offered him, he had declined in favor of Beard, the third baseman, on the ground that his work in the pitcher’s box would require all his attention; but he was really the controlling authority of the nine――the power behind the throne, so to speak. The news Tony brought was therefore of the deepest interest to us, who recognized in Arnold our most formidable opponent. The same idea was undoubtedly in all our minds. “Arnold unwell!” I exclaimed, giving utterance to the common thought. “I wonder if he will be able to play Monday.” “That I can’t say,” answered Tony. “The telegram was very brief, and gave me no clue as to the nature or extent of his sickness.” “Suppose Arnold doesn’t pitch Monday,” said Percy Randall. “Oh, my! Won’t we have a picnic!” “Well, you needn’t count on that at all,” answered Ray. “You will only be the loser for it. I know Park College of old, and I don’t take any stock in their ‘invalids.’ Two years ago we heard rumors from Berkeley some time before that three of their men were laid up. All the same, the next week out came those three ‘invalids,’ and played a rattling fine game, doing us up to the tune of 6–4. You remember that, Harry?” “Indeed I do,” I responded, “for one of those ‘invalids’ knocked a home run on an outcurve of mine. Park College ‘invalids’ are dangerous men on the ball field.” “Well,” said Tony, “I know their tricks, too, so I didn’t place much faith in that part of the message. There is little doubt but that Arnold will be on hand Monday, and keep up his record.” As we left the dining room we were met in the hallway by Slade and Bennett, of the Halford nine. It was the first we had seen of them since the game. They were both as pleasant as possible, and evidently determined to let their disappointment over the results of the game in no way affect their behavior toward us. “Well,” said Slade to me with a smile, “you deserve to be congratulated, for you played a strong game. We honestly thought we would win to-day, for we calculated on finding your nine weaker than usual. It was your game with the Dean men that made us feel so confident, and the results to-day took us pretty well by surprise. The fellows feel disappointed, of course, for it throws us entirely out of the race, but the game was fairly won, so there’s an end of it.” “Our nine has greatly improved since the Dean game,” said Ray. “We have made several changes.”