Harold began to feel more cheerful. Here was a fellow to whom he could tell about college. Compared with Hagner, Harold was an old timer, and he began to feel good. Hagner kept on taking things out of his trunk. He was having a hard time, getting something out that seemed to be laid in crosswise between the clothes. Harold looked, and just then out it came, and there stood Hagner with an old baseball bat in his hand. He reached in with his left and pulled out an old fielder’s mitt, which had a big hole right through the middle. [Illustration: “Just then out it came and there stood Hagner with an old baseball bat in his hand.”] Harold’s eyes bulged. “Do you play ball?” he asked. “A little,” said the other; “used to play around the back lots down home. Had to play hookey from Sunday school to get a chance. Had to work week days after school. You play?” “Some,” said Harold. “What position?” “Pitcher,” said Harold, falling into the other’s way of talking. “What’s your place?” “Short,” said Hagner. “Going to try for the team?” asked Harold. “Will if they want me. You?” “I’m going to make them want me. The best pitcher they had last year is gone and they need some one.” “Better try for something else. Everybody thinks he can pitch. Only a few know how.” “Well, I’m a Southpaw pitcher, and I was pretty good on the High School team out home. Southpaws are scarce.” “Left handed, eh! You look quick, too. Think you might make a first baseman.” “I’d rather pitch,” said Harold. “All right, sir,” said Hagner. “You can pitch if you want to and if they want you, but if they give me a chance any place, I think I can stop them all right, and if I miss one occasionally, I think I can hold the job with my bat. What’s your first name? Mine’s John, but you can call me Hagner.” “My first name is Harold, but you had better call me by my last name, too.” And so they talked baseball until long after midnight, and their enthusiasm for the great American game made them friends at once, and Harold went to bed feeling that the world was bright and warm and that spring would be coming pretty soon, and he made up his mind right there not to get homesick any more, but to dig more into his studies so that his marks wouldn’t interfere with the amount of time he wanted to give to baseball when practice started. CHAPTER IV THE JERRY HARRIMAN SCHOLARSHIP PRIZES When Lowell University won the college baseball Championship in 1876 the victory was to a large extent due to the wonderful all-round work of Jerry Harriman. As a pitcher he had never up to that time had an equal, and he could play almost any other position on the team well. In those days a club would have only one pitcher and he was expected to pitch almost every game of the season, which often meant pitching every day in the week but Sunday. When not pitching he played an outfield position.