“Keep quiet, Charley,” said Osgood, placing a hand on his friend’s knee. “It looks like it’s really all over. Take your cue from me and pretend you’re happy.” “You’re asking just a bit too much, Ned,” said Shultz huskily. “You know I’m a poor bluffer in any kind of a game.” “But you’re usually lucky, just the same; I’ve seen you hold some great cards.” “Some catch, Chipper—some catch,” Grant was saying happily. “You raked the clouds for that one.” “I had to do something to make up for my last raw play,” returned the beaming little chap. Nelson was laughing. “We’re backing you up now, Rodney, old boy. That kind of support ought to give you courage to take a fall out of Wolcott.” To tell the truth, although he made a pretense of being undismayed and confident, there was really little hope left in Wolcott’s heart. Nevertheless, it was always Wyndham’s way to play a game out without let-up, and the batter showed that he was trying for a hit by fouling the ball several times. Presently, however, the Texan deceived him with one of his most effective drops, and Wolcott’s fruitless slice at the air brought the game to an end with the score 4 to 3 in Oakdale’s favor. CHAPTER V THE DIPLOMACY OF OSGOOD. Shultz sullenly watched his teammates giving the losers a complimentary cheer; he could not take his cue from Osgood and join with the slightest pretense of rejoicing in this cheering. And when the happy players gathered up their trappings and started for the adjacent academy, where in the basement gymnasium the Wyndhamites had given them a room in which to change their clothes, Shultz trailed along behind, listening with persistent bitterness to the chattering fellows who were still rejoicing over the result. “Oh, Craney!” cried Cooper, as he playfully banged Sile with an open hand. “That measly little tap of yours in the last round was certainly a soporific wallop.” “Here, yeou better let Sleuth slaughter the language that fashion,” grinned Crane. “Soporific! What’s it mean, anyhaow?” “Why, soothing, sleep-producing; it’s what a prize-fighter hands his antagonist when he gives him a two-ton jolt on the point of the jaw. It put Wyndham down and out, all right.” “Oh, that didn’t end the game by a long shot. If old Texas hadn’t pitched some in the last half——” “Great centipedes!” interrupted Grant. “If you fellows hadn’t given me Big League support they’d corralled the game after all. The way you raked down Cohen’s drive was sure some playing. And that little turn by Piper plugged their promising start right handsomely.” “I was frightened when Hooker let Foxhall’s grounder get through him,” declared Ned Osgood; “but Sleuth was right on the job. It was a splendid victory.” Jack Nelson shot the speaker a quizzical glance, but said nothing.