Tom Clifton, who, a moment before, towering over his neighbor's shoulder, was prominently in view, now shifted his position so that his face was no longer in line with Mr. Barry's eagle glare. To his horror, Benny Wilkins burst out laughing. "Ha, ha, ha!" giggled Benny. "And I know who said it, too." The tall boy's nerves tingled with apprehension. It was a moment of intense relief when Mr. Barry, paying no heed to the interruption, continued: "Frankly, I was not satisfied with the team's showing, and I dropped many remarks to that effect during several of the games. It didn't occur to me at the time, but I've learned since that some of them acted upon the boys with extraordinary force." His cold, penetrating gaze shifted from one to another. "I understand your position, Brown; and I understand the position of the regulars, too." Not a sound came from the crowd as the elderly gentleman, tapping the turf impatiently with his knotted stick, went on: "Any lot of boys who have the courage and fighting spirit to stick it out in the face of such a confounded row must be made of pretty good stuff. Confidence in oneself is half the battle in life. This is what I have to say: The lads may be able to do what they claim. If they show as much grit and determination in the coming games as they have during the past few weeks they ought to win the championship." "But suppose they should lose?" broke in Brown, doggedly--"then the school loses, too, doesn't it?" "We must give them a chance in the inter-scholastic series. If the nine starts off with reasonable evidence of being winners--all right; if they don't"--the millionaire paused--"then we shall talk about the matter further." His voice rose harshly. "Let me add a word of warning: If the work of the team is in any way interfered with, or if there are again such scenes as have taken place here to-day, I withdraw my offer"--the knotted stick struck the ground a violent blow--"remember that!" The turn of the regulars to applaud had come at last. CHAPTER XXIII BOB SCORES AT LAST "Hit it out, Dave; hit it out!" "Jeffords is losing his nerve! You've got him going!" "Knock the cover off the ball." "Slam out a homer!" It was hard to realize that the lot only fifteen minutes before had been the scene of the greatest confusion. The spectators were now as orderly as active, wide-awake lads could be. All signs of ill-feeling seemed to have disappeared as entirely as though such a thing had never existed. Mr. Barry's warning had sunk in deep. The "Hopes," satisfied at last that their chance would come if the regulars failed to make good, became so mild as to cause Benny Wilkins to make several entries in his note-book.