"Oh, you big fibber! Jack and Chub were under the bed and saw you take it out of your trunk and put it under Roy's mattress! And we told Roy, and he wouldn't tell on you because he said--" "Oh, I've heard all that once," he interrupted roughly. "I guess if he didn't tell he had a mighty good reason for it!" "I've told you why he didn't!" cried Harry impatiently. "Do you suppose he _wanted_ not to play to-day? He spared you and I think you might do that much to help him--and me--and the school." "It was just a sort of joke," murmured Horace, his eyes on the ground. "I didn't know it was going to cause so much bother." He laughed uncertainly. "What's the good of making more rumpus now? Roy can't win the game; we're beaten already." "You don't know!" insisted Harry. "Anyhow, it would be only fair and square; and you want to be that, don't you, Horace?" "And get fired?" he asked glumly. "Oh, sure!" "You won't be fired! Why, it's almost the end of school!" Horace was silent a moment, his gaze on the diamond where the Hammond second baseman was picking himself up from the ground in a successful effort to head off Post at the plate. "Look here, Harry," he said finally, "do you really think Roy kept quiet so that I could stay in the race? Honest injun?" "I know he did! Chub and Jack will tell you the same thing! Honest and honest, Horace!" There was another moment of hesitation. Then Horace squared his shoulders, laughed carelessly and turned away. "All right, Harry," he said. "Lead me to the slaughter!" * * * * * "You go into the box," said Chub to Kirby, "and for goodness sake hold 'em down, old man! Post, you go out to center, will you? Who've we got for first, sir?" And Chub turned in perplexity to Mr. Cobb. "Thurlow; let Reynolds take his place at third." Chub groaned. "Maybe I'd better try it myself, sir. And let Reynolds take second." But Mr. Cobb shook his head. "Won't do," he answered. "You're needed where you are." "All right. Where's Reynolds? Hello, Roy! Isn't this the limit? If only you hadn't been such an idiot!" "Why?" asked Roy, his face one broad smile. "Why? Why! Oh, go to thunder! Because if you were playing first we wouldn't be in such a hole, that's why." "I'm going to," answered Roy. "Going to what?" "Play first, if you want me to." "Want you to!" shouted Chub. "But what about Emmy?" "He's given me permission. Horace has 'fessed up. It's all right." Chub hugged him violently and deliriously. "Oh, good boy!" he cried. "It's all right, sir!" he called to Mr. Cobb. "We won't need Reynolds. Porter's going to play!" Mr. Cobb hurried across from the bench and nearly wrenched Roy's hand off. "Doctor willing, is he? That's good! That's fine! Do your best, Porter, do your best. Eaton's a bit discouraged, but I tell him it's not over till the whistle--that is, till the umpire--er--Well, good luck!" And the coach hurried over to the scorer to arrange the new batting list.