Down on the diamond stood the members of the baseball squad. As far as the onlookers could see, every one of the forty-odd young men was in the pink of physical condition. The indoor training had been hard from the outset. Weeks of cage work had been gone through with in the gym. But from this day on, whenever it didn't rain too hard, the baseball training work was to take place on the field. Coach Luce now stepped out of the little building in which were the team dressing rooms. As he went across the diamond he was followed by lusty cheers from High School boys up on the spectators' seats. The girls clapped their hands, or waved handkerchiefs. A few already carried the gold and crimson banners of Gridley. Besides the High School young people, there were a few hundred older people, who had come out to see what the youngsters were doing. For this was the day on which the pitchers were to be tried out. Ripley was known to be the favorite in all the guessing. In fact, there wasn't any guessing. Some, however, believed that Dick, and possibly Dave, might be chosen as the relief pitchers. Dick himself looked mighty solemn, as he stood by, apparently seeing but little of what was going on. Beside him stood Dave. The other four chums were not far off. Another wild howl went up from the High School contingent when two more men were seen to leave the dressing room building and walk out toward Coach Luce. These were two members of the Athletic Committee, former students at Gridley High School. These two were to aid the coach in choosing the men for the school team. They would also name the members of the school's second team. "Now, we'll try you out on pitching, if you're ready," announced Mr. Luce, turning to a member of the junior class. The young fellow grinned half-sheepishly, but was game. He ran over to the box, after nodding to the catcher he had chosen. Luce took the bat and stood by the home plate. To-day the coach did not intend to strike at any of the balls, but he and the two members of the Athletic Committee would judge, and award marks to the candidates. "Oh, we don't want the dub! Trot out Rip!" came a roaring chorus. Coach Luce, however, from this time on, paid no heed to the shouts or demands of spectators. The candidate for box honors now displayed all he knew about pitching, though some nervousness doubtless marred his performance. "Now, run out Rip!" came the insistent chorus again, after this candidate had shown his curves and had gone back. But it was another member of the junior class who came to the box for the next trial. "Dead ball! Throw wild and cut it short!" came the advice from the seats. Then a sophomore was tried out. But the crowd was becoming highly impatient. "We want Rip! We demand Rip. Give us Rip or give us chloroform!" came the insistent clamor. "We'll come another day to see the dead ones, if you insist."