"What do you see, Brown?" asked Owen Lawrence. "You fellows couldn't spy through a hole in a fence," growled "Crackers." He lowered his voice. "Cast your optics over in the direction of Steele and Somers. Now do you catch on?" "Gee Willikins! They seem to be looking over a long list of some kind," cried Ted Pollock. "I wonder what it means." "If your brain cells don't operate actively enough I suppose I'll have to tell you," said "Crackers," in his usual solemn tone. "It must be a--a--what's the word? Oh, yes--tentative--a tentative list of eligible players." "I believe that wearing spectacles must make a fellow smart," grinned Benny. "What are you looking so glum about, Lawrence?" "Why, I wanted to try for the team myself," exclaimed Lawrence. "By Jingo, they ought to give me a chance. Come on, fellows. I'm going to find out right away where I stand." "Don't let 'em bluff you," counseled Benny. "Always remember that the 'Pie-eaters'll' back you up." There was no air of indecision about the new student. The lines of his clean-cut face seemed to tighten. "I say, Mr. Steele," he called, "may I have a word with you?" "As many as you please," answered the coach, smilingly. He handed the list which had excited "Crackers'" curiosity to Bob Somers and advanced to the edge of the cage. "What can I do for you, Lawrence?" "Am I too late to try for the team, Mr. Steele?" Owen spoke in an aggressive manner, as though he anticipated an affirmative answer and was ready to argue the point. But: "Certainly you may," coming from the coach made the combative light fade from his eyes. "Oh--oh! Thank you." "You have played a good deal, I suppose?" "Yes, sir." "Very well. You may start in to-morrow." "Too bad! A revolution nipped in the bud," muttered Benny Wilkins. "Lawrence's expression was something fierce. But it had the 'fade-away' drop, all right. Back to the pie parlor for me." "I'd like to see that list," remarked "Crackers," wistfully. "Hi, hi, there, Tom Clifton," shouted Benny Wilkins, "trot over this way." "Well?" inquired Tom, an instant later. "Is that--er--er--what was the big word you used just now, 'Crackers'?" "Tentative, you ignoramus." "Thanks! A tentative list of players, Tom?" Tom looked very wise. "Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't," he answered, slowly. "Just think it over while you're eating doughnuts. Going to practice to-morrow, Lawrence? Good! The more the merrier!" "The more the sorrier, you mean--when the list is pasted up," interposed Benny. "I shouldn't be surprised if somebody got pasted after the pasting," said "Crackers." "Don't worry," laughed Tom, turning away. During the next few days, whenever the weather was suitable, the boys practiced out-of-doors. Owen Lawrence worked as hard as any of the others. There was no doubt about his being a good player--even Tom Clifton admitted this fact to Harry Spearman. "Joining that 'Pie-eating' crowd won't do him a bit of good, though," he added.