Then, one day, came a note from the rain-maker stating that he and his wagon were in their former place, and that the “ball-glasses,” as Bill called them, were ready. “Now for the test!” cried Mr. Somnus, as Bill, his brothers and Whistle-Breeches arrived at the improvised camp early one afternoon. Cap had brought his mask and glove and was to catch for his brother. “I hope my plan works,” murmured Mr. Clatter. The special lenses which Mr. Somnus had had made were fitted into a strong, black rubber frame, and it set close to Bill’s eyes. It gave him an odd appearance, but it was just the thing for playing a game of ball. He had demonstrated that he could bat well without any glasses, so he would only have to be a “four-eyes,” as he dubbed himself, in the pitching box. The glasses were put on. Bill took a ball, and walked off a short distance while Cap donned his mask and mitt. “Let her go!” he called to his brother, who was “winding up,” in his usual fashion. A square stone had been laid down as a plate. There was an anxious moment among the little knot of spectators. Bill drew back his hand, worked his arm a couple of times, squinted through the glasses, and then with the speed of a miniature projectile, the ball left his grip and sped toward Cap. “Biff!” That was the ball hitting the big mitt. “Strike!” yelled Cap. “It was over the plate as clean as a whistle, but it had a curve to it that would fool Hans Wagner himself! Good work, old man!” “Try another!” called Bill, trying to keep his voice cool. Once more the ball went over the plate cleanly. “Strike!” called Cap again. “Are they all right?” asked Bill. “Right as a trivet! Oh, Bill, you’re yourself again!” There was a moisture in the pitcher’s eyes, but the odd glasses concealed his tears of gratitude. “Hurrah!” yelled Professor Clatter leaping about like a boy. “Now you’ll make the Varsity; eh Tithy?” “He will! I can read it in the stars!” said the little astronomer, gaily. CHAPTER XIV THE TRY-OUT That Bill was delighted to find his former skill had not deserted him goes without saying. It was tempered a bit by the fact that he had to wear glasses, but that could not be helped. “I wonder how Mr. Windam will take to ’em?” he asked his brothers as they walked back to school together. “He won’t care as long as you can pitch the way you did this afternoon,” declared Cap. “I wonder what Graydon will say?” “I don’t see how he can say anything,” came from Whistle-Breeches. “Any captain wants the best pitcher he can get.” “And as for J. Evans Green, he’s the kind of a manager who wants to see games won, and keep possession of the pennant,” declared Pete. “There won’t be any kicking about the glasses, Bill. He’d let you wear hoop-skirts if it made you play better.” But there was objection to Bill when he appeared for practice wearing the odd goggles, though it did not come from coach, captain or manager. It was first voiced by Bondy Guilder, and some of his cronies.