"Rip, it was the greatest work I ever saw a boy do." "Will you show me---after the nine has been made up, of course?" "How did you ever get it down so slick?" This was all meat to the boy who had long been unpopular. "I always was a pretty fair pitcher, wasn't I?" asked Fred. "Yes; but never anything like the pitcher you showed us to-day," glowed eager Parkinson. "I've been doing a good deal of practicing and study since the close of last season," Fred replied importantly. "I've studied out a lot of new things. I shan't show them all, either, until the real season begins." Fred's glance, in roaming around, took in Dick & Co. For once, these six very popular sophomores had no one else around them. "Whew! I think I've taken some wind out of the sails of Mr. Self-satisfied Prescott," Fred told himself jubilantly. "We shan't hear so much about Dick & Co. for a few months!" "Well, anyway, Dick," said Tom Reade, "you and Dave needn't feel too badly. If Ripley turns out to be the nine's crack pitcher, the nine also carries two relief pitchers. You and Dave have a chance to be the relief pitchers. _That_ will make the nine for you both, anyway. But, then, that spitball may be the only thing Ripley knows." "Don't fool yourself," returned Prescott, shaking his head. "If Ripley can do that one so much like a veteran, then he knows other styles of tossing, too. I'm glad for Gridley High School---mighty glad. I wouldn't mind on personal grounds, either, if only---if-----" "If Fred Ripley were only a half decent fellow," Harry Hazelton finished for him. Coach Luce soon dismissed the squad for the day. A few minutes later the boys left the gym. in groups. Of course the pitching they had seen was the sole theme. Ripley didn't have to walk away alone to-day. Coach Luce and a dozen of the boys stepped along with him in great glee. "It's Rip! Old Rip will be the most talked about fellow in any High School league this year," Parkinson declared, enthusiastically. Even the fellows who actually despised Fred couldn't help their jubilation. Gridley was strong in athletics just because of the real old Gridley High School spirit. Gridley's boys always played to win. They made heroes of the fellows who could lead them to victory after victory. Fred was far on his way home ere the last boy had left him. "I'll get everything in sight now," Ripley told himself, in ecstasy, as he turned in at the gateway to his home. "Why, even if Prescott does get into the relief box, I can decide when he shall or shall not pitch. I'll never see him get a _big_ game to pitch in. Oh, but this blow to-day has hurt Dick Prescott worse than a blow over the head with an iron stake could. I've wiped him up and put him down again. I've made him feel sick and ashamed of his puny little inshoot! Prescott, you're mine to do as I please with on this year's nine---if you can make it at all!"