A moment later the pitcher hurried from the room as his name was called to bat. Tom walked to a window that gave a view of the grounds. As he passed Langridge's valise he smelled a pungent, alcoholic odor. He started and for a moment could not tell what it was. Then it came to him. "Liquor! He's been drinking liquor!" he almost exclaimed aloud. "He's broken the training rules. I wonder--I wonder if this is what Sid hinted at--if this is what Mr. Lighton meant!" From the diamond there came a sharp crack. It was a bat meeting a swiftly pitched ball with that inspiring sound that indicates a fair hit. Tom saw Langridge speeding for first base, while Randall lads were yelling at the top of their voices. "It's a three-bagger!" cried Tom delightedly, and so it proved, Langridge bringing in a run a moment later on a sacrifice hit by Holly Cross. CHAPTER XVII AN EXPOSTULATION "Now we'll do 'em up!" cried Langridge, dancing about in a strange enthusiasm as he crossed the home plate. "Knock a home run, Kerr, and we'll roll up a score. Then I'll strike out the next six men." There were but two more innings to play, and the run Langridge brought in had reduced the lead against the Randall freshmen from 6 to 5. But five runs are a big handicap, especially when you can't depend on your pitcher. Kerr struck out and so did Sid, who was up next. Langridge was disappointed, though not discouraged, and he made wild promises about what he was going to do. But he did not fulfil them and got careless in his pitching. The game degenerated almost into a farce in the last inning, when Dodville piled up four runs, making the total score 17 to 5, it being the worst drubbing the Randalls had received in many years. The only consolation was that it was not the 'varsity team, but, as Kerr said, that was no excuse. There were almost jeers mingled with the cheers of the preparatory school lads, and it was a sore and sorrowful lot of freshmen who made their way to the special trolley cars, the stalled one having been brought up in the meanwhile. "Who's eating cloves?" asked Sid Henderson as he piled into the electric and threw his big mitt on the seat beside him. "Have some?" asked Langridge, holding out a quantity. "I had toothache and I took a few." "No, thanks, don't use 'em," replied Sid with a quick look at the pitcher, whose eyes were unnaturally bright. "But if you have any ginger about you, it might come in handy." "Ginger--how?" "For this team. We need it. To be beaten by a bunch of schoolboys!" "Well, we didn't have our regular team," explained Langridge. "Besides, I didn't have any support. I pitched well, but you fellows didn't back me up." There was an arrogant look on his face. "Yes, you pitched well, you did," exclaimed Kerr with an unconcealed sneer in his voice. "You did hot work, you did." "What about my three-bagger?" "That didn't make up for your rotten pitching!"