"No, I don't know that I can," was the frank answer. "I s'pose I'd do the same thing. But I hope in time to be a better pitcher than he is." "How are you coming on with the coach?" "Fine. Mr. Lighton has given me some good pointers, and I needed them. My curves are all right and so is my speed. It's my control that's weak, and I'm getting rid of some of my faults." "We're going to have a practice game with you scrubs to-morrow or next day," said Sid. "Maybe you'll get a chance to show what you can do then." "I hope so. I want to show Langridge that he isn't the only bean in the pot, to put it poetically." "Very poetically," murmured Sid, who seemed to be dozing off. "Say, Sid," exclaimed Tom suddenly, "do you remember what you started to say about Langridge the other day and stopped?" "Yes." "What was it?" "I'd rather not tell. You'll probably find out for yourself before long. I did, though not many know it." "You mean----" "I'm not going to say what I mean. Only," and Sid suddenly sat up, "it may increase your chances of pitching on the 'varsity." "I think I know," said Tom slowly, and he began to get ready for bed. A practice game between the 'varsity and the scrub was called for the next afternoon. The first team was in rather disorganized shape yet. That is to say, not all the players were in permanent positions and shifts were likely to be made at any time as practice brought out defects or merits. It was even said that some now on the 'varsity might be relegated to the scrub and some from the second team advanced. Tom secretly hoped so in his case, but his common sense told him he stood a slim chance. Langridge, of course, was pitcher on the first team and Kerr was the catcher. Kindlings Woodhouse played on third, where he could direct the efforts of his men. When the scrub and regular teams were out on the diamond ready for the practice game Kindlings looked over his players. "Where's Sid Henderson?" he asked. "He got turned back in Latin at last class," volunteered Jerry Jackson. "Here he comes now," added Joe Jackson, as if he was an echo to his brother. Sid came running up, all out of breath, buttoning his blouse as he advanced. "What's the matter, son?" asked the captain. "That rotten Latin." "Be careful," warned Kindlings. "Don't slump too often or you may put us in a hole. You aren't the only first baseman that ever lived, but you're pretty good, and I don't want to go to work training you in and have you fired off the team by the faculty for not keeping up your studies." "Oh, I'll be careful," promised Sid confidently, and then the game started. The 'varsity played snappy ball and the scrub seemed a bit ragged, naturally perhaps as there was less incentive for them to play hard.