“Loring’s being there will make things easier for you,” said Dick. “I fancy he’s pretty well liked and the fellows will be nice to you on his account. But I’ll tell you one thing plainly, Harold: You won’t get to Rifle Point this Fall.” Harold opened his eyes widely. “I won’t?” he exclaimed. “Certainly not. And you won’t get there next Fall unless you buckle down and learn something.” “Loring said I could!” “Loring probably thought you were more advanced than you are, then,” replied Dick. “I’m sorry, Harold; but facts are facts.” “Then what’ll I do this Winter?” asked the boy lugubriously. “How about another year where you were?” “I won’t! I hate that place! I won’t go back there, no matter what anyone says!” “Then you might have a tutor.” That suggestion didn’t seem to make much of a hit. Harold scowled for a minute in silence. Then: “Don’t you think I could get in this Fall, Lovering, if—if I studied hard?” Dick hesitated. “I’m entered, you know,” pleaded Harold. “I should think I might, Lovering.” “Yes, you might,” returned Dick grimly, “but it would mean studying a good deal differently than the way you’ve been studying, Harold. It would mean getting your nose right down into the books, putting your whole soul into it, and giving up a lot of playtime. Think you could do that?” It was Harold’s turn to hesitate. Finally, though, he nodded. “Well, do you think you _would_ do it?” asked Dick. “Sure, if—if you’ll help me!” “I’ll help you, all right, Harold. But there must be no changing your mind about it later. If we start this thing, we’re going to keep it up. If you’ll work honestly and do the very best you know how, I’ll get you so you can pass the exams this Fall. What do you say? Is it a bargain?” “You bet!” said Harold. “All right. Hand me those books, please.” Dick turned the pages and made new marks on the margins of them. “There; we’ll start off with eight pages instead of four, Harold. We’ve got to pretty nearly break all existing records, I guess.” Harold whistled softly. “Gee!” he murmured. “Eight pages of that stuff!” Dick looked across inquiringly. Harold squared his shoulders with the suggestion of a swagger. “Oh, I’ll do it, all right!” he said. “You just watch me!” Wednesday’s game with Logan attracted a smaller audience to the athletic field than had the Saturday contest but Tim Turner emptied his pockets of twenty-two dollars and fifty cents afterward, and as Logan received only her expenses there was nearly twenty dollars left. The game was one-sided, Clearfield winning by a score of 17 to 4. The Logan pitchers—she used two of them—were easy for the home-team batsmen, while Tom Haley was hit safely but thrice. Two of Logan’s runs resulted from errors, Jack Tappen, who had been reinstated, being one offender, and Gordon the other. Jack dropped an easy fly, and Gordon made an atrocious throw to second.