"You didn't give me a chance," was Tom's quiet answer, and then he fell to talking about the game until he and Sid got to their room. Later there were bonfires and fun galore in honor of the victory. Coach Lighton gave the nine no rest. Early the next Monday afternoon, as soon as lessons were over, he had them out on the diamond playing against the scrub. Somewhat to the surprise of members of the second team as well as that of the 'varsity, Tom Parsons struck out an unusual number of players. "You fellows will have to bat better than this," growled Langridge when practice was over and the 'varsity game had been saved merely by a fumble on the part of a scrub fielder. "This won't do." "Physician, heal thyself," quoted Captain Woodhouse with a grim smile. "You struck out twice, Langridge." "I know it, but batting isn't my best specialty and it is for some of you fellows." "True enough," admitted Kindlings gravely, "and we must brace up a bit for the game next Saturday with Fairview." "The captain is right, boys," added the coach. "You must do some hard hitting." "Or else Tom Parsons mustn't pitch so well," said Phil Clinton in a low voice to Sid. "How about it?" "That's right. He's improving wonderfully. Langridge will have to look to his pitching arm." At that moment the wealthy youth passed by Phil and Sid. He heard what they said, and if they could have seen his face then they would have been somewhat puzzled at the look on it. But neither Tom nor any of his friends saw. It was the next day after the scrub game that as Tom was alone in his room, "boning" away on Latin, a knock sounded on the door. "Come!" he cried, and, much to his surprise, Langridge entered. "You're becoming a regular greasy dig, aren't you?" he asked pleasantly. "Well, I've got to do some studying, you know. That's what I came here for." "Yes, I know and all that sort of thing, but if you're going in for athletics you can't pound away at your books too hard." "Oh, I guess what pounding I do won't hurt me," and Tom laid aside the volume, the while wondering why Langridge had called on him. Tom distinctly was not in the rich youth's set. "I hope not," and the other's manner was becoming more and more cordial. "But I say, Parsons, don't you want to help us get one in on the sophs?" "Sure. You can always count on me. What is it this time?" "Well, you know the little open pavilion down near the river?" "The one near the boathouse?" "That same." "Sure I know it." "Well, you know according to ancient and revered college tradition that is sacred to the sophomores. None other but members of the second-year class may go there. If one of us freshmen is caught there it means a ducking, to say the least." "So I've heard."