Bat and ball met squarely with a crash; the ball sped away, not in a high parabola that gives the lazy outfielder an easy put out, nor in the regular sharp bounds which a clever baseman may handle, but well above the reach of any infielder, and striking the ground too soon and with too hot a pace to be held by the outfield. A hard hit like this, if it passes between the outfielders on a deep, smooth field, rolls forever. "A bully hit!" exclaimed Durand, as Owen, his frown transformed into a smirk of satisfaction, took his place with the rest. "That's good for three bases sure." "I don't know about that," Owen replied modestly, mentally resolving, however, that if he ever made such a hit in a real game he wouldn't stop to look round till he had passed third. "Too hard," was the comment of the coach to Poole, "but good form." "I'm hoping to get a good hitting outfielder out of him," replied Poole. "Carle told me Owen's batting average was always high. I suppose Borland will do all our catching." Patterson came up for his trial. O'Connell, angry with himself for having let Owen get a long drive out of him, set himself to fool the pitcher at least. "Don't try for big hits!" warned the coach. "Just watch the ball and make sure you hit it. Wait for the good ones!" And Patterson watched the ball and waited, letting the good ones go by and striking at the poor ones. He finally succeeded in poking a feeble bounder over to the pitcher's position, and thus obtained the privilege of retiring. Altogether Patterson's first day out gave little promise that his ambitions would ever be realized. CHAPTER XVI THEORIES AND PLANS "Going to get into the game to-day?" asked Wolcott Lindsay, on the Saturday morning following the first outdoor practice, as he met Owen coming out of the Pecks' room. "I understand they've got about twenty men on the batting list." Rob laughed constrainedly. "Yes, Sudbury and Tom Riley and I are all going to play centre field." "I thought you were down for second base." Rob shook his head. "They tried me there yesterday, but I didn't make good, so I've gone further out." "Well, I hope you'll make good there. Durand says you're a slugger." "I'm not!" answered Rob, sharply. He had his own opinions as to men who are always trying for home runs. "I'm no great fielder either," he added more moderately, "as you'll see if you come up. Who are these Seaton Clippers anyway?" "Oh, just a team made up of townies. We always play the opening game with the Clippers to try out the men." They parted, Rob going into his room, where Simmons sat in the corner of the window-seat, doubled up over a book.