Scott Morgan
The New Boys at Oakdale

CHAPTER III – BENCHED

In moments like this the baseball fan of any age goes wild with frenzy; especially is this true of the enthusiastic schoolboy fan who has watched his team fight an uphill game and come neck-and-neck with a worthy and much-feared rival in one of the late innings of the contest. The youthful Wyndhamites shrieked until their faces were purple and their eyes bulging, flourishing their banners and frantically pounding one another over heads and shoulders. At the bench the players laughingly danced around Foxhall and then cheered Cohen as the latter came walking back from first, muttering to himself that the catch had been “a case of horseshoes, nothing less.”

In the midst of this excitement Nelson ran up to Grant, whose face was pale, but grim and set as ever.

“You couldn’t help it, Rod,” said the Oakdale captain soothingly. “They won’t get any more. The bases are clean now.”

“But they’ve tied the score,” growled the Texan. “That’s the first time Cohen has touched one of my drops to-day.”

“Hold them where they are, and we’ll win it yet,” declared Jack optimistically. “We didn’t expect a walk-over with this bunch.”

Wolcott’s courage was high as he faced Rodney. Heedless of the uproar, the Texan burned the air with his speed, and Wolcott fouled.

“Strike one,” called the umpire.

Another smoker followed with a slightly different twist, and this time the batter missed cleanly.

“That’s two of them, old Maverick,” called Stone, breathing on his smarting right hand. “Some speed, old man – some speed there.”

Seemingly with precisely the same movement and snap, Rodney made the third pitch; but this time the ball lingered astonishingly on its way, as if held back by some subtle force, and, as a result, the befooled batter struck too soon, not even fouling it. This gave the little bunch of loyal Oakdalers a chance to cheer.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to call me down for that one-handed catch, are you?” said Shultz insolently, as he came jogging to the bench.

Nelson shot him a look and turned away without answering. Not satisfied, the fielder turned to Cooper. “A man can usually tell whether he can reach the ball best with one hand or two,” he declared loudly enough for the captain to hear. “I didn’t make that muff intentionally.”

Ben Stone walked out to the plate and watched Lefty Leach waste two benders, which led Springer stammeringly to prophesy that Leach, being afraid, would give the stocky catcher a pass. The next one, however, was over the outside corner and precisely where Ben wanted it, whereupon he smashed a terrific drive over second and took two sacks on it amid further enthusiasm by Oakdale.

Nelson could not refrain from calling Osgood’s attention to the fact that this hit would have given the visitors a score had his instructions regarding sacrificing been obeyed.

“Perhaps you’re right,” admitted Ned in his blandly polite and tantalizing manner; “but it’s no dead sure thing that Stone would have made just that kind of a hit in the other inning. Anyway, we ought to get some runs now.”

Sile Crane ambled awkwardly forth to the plate and hit into the diamond the first ball pitched, giving Stone, who had a good start, plenty of time to reach third, for Foxhall juggled the grounder a moment. Realizing he could not stop Ben, Foxhall snapped the sphere to first in time to get the lanky batter.

“The squeeze, Cooper,” hissed Nelson in Chipper’s ear, as the little shortstop rose from the bench. At the same time Jack assumed a pose that told Stone what was to be tried.

Ready to play his part, Ben crept off third, intending to dash for the plate and rely upon Cooper to hit the ball into the diamond somewhere.

Leach placed himself in position, nodded in response to his catcher’s signal, hunched his left shoulder a bit, and, whirling like a flash, threw to third. Stone had started forward with that shoulder movement by the pitcher, and was caught off the sack. Instantly, even as he sought to get back without being touched, he called for judgment on a balk.

The umpires had changed positions, and now the Wyndham man was behind the pitcher. In response to that demand for a decision on Leach’s movement he grimly shook his head.

“It was a balk – a plain, cold balk,” cried Nelson, on his feet.

“No balk,” denied the umpire, still shaking his head.

“In that case,” said the other umpire slowly, “Stone is out at third.”

Nelson ran into the diamond and confronted the Wyndham man. “It was as rank a balk as I ever saw,” he asserted hotly. “What kind of a deal are you trying to give us?”

“I saw no balk, and I was looking at the pitcher,” returned the umpire. “Get back to your bench.”

Nelson argued in vain, while the crowd made the air ring with hoots and cat-calls. Presently the umpire threatened to pull his watch and forfeit the game, whereupon the disgusted and angry Oakdale captain walked slowly back to the bench.

“You shouldn’t let him get away with it,” said Osgood. “It was a balk all right.”

“Why didn’t our man call Stone safe?” rasped Grant.

“Ben was caught off the sack by five feet,” said Nelson. “Two wrongs don’t make a right. But it’s hard medicine to swallow.”

Thus far Chipper Cooper had not made a hit; but now, as if he, too, was fired with resentment by the injustice of the decision, he landed on the second ball pitched to him and drove it out for a clean single.

“G-g-good bub-bub-boy, Chipper!” shouted Springer. “It’s a wonder he didn’t call it a fuf-foul, though.”

Sleuth Piper, solemn and savage, took his place at the plate, grabbing his bat and shaking it as if he meant to make a dent in the ball as surely as Leach got it within reach. Not once did he swing, however, and the left-handed twirler looked disgusted when he had presently handed up the fourth ball in succession and thus given one of the weak batters of the visiting nine a pass.

“Get the next man, Lefty,” urged Baxter. “He’s fruit for you.”

With the head of the list following Springer, the Oakdale boys hoped for the best; but Phil put up a dead easy infield fly that was smothered, and the visitors had lost another splendid opportunity.

Never in his life had Grant pitched better than he did in the last of the eighth. Only three batters faced him, and two of these fanned, the third putting up a foul which Stone took care of with ease.

“Steady, fellows,” cautioned Baxter, as his men started for the field. “We’ve only got to hold them. Old Grant can’t keep that steam up. We’ll get to him.”

Leach started the ninth as if he meant to duplicate the last turn of the Texan, fanning Captain Nelson with apparent ease.

Once more Rod Grant came to bat, and once more, with his pet club in his hands, he out-guessed the southpaw twirler, banging a clean single into center.

At Osgood’s elbow Nelson quickly said:

“Sacrifice him to second. That will give him a possible chance to score if Shultz hits safe.”

Osgood made no retort. He saw Grant looking toward the bench and placing himself in position to get away swiftly on the bunt. At the plate, he beheld the first ball pitched to him apparently coming over just where he wanted it, and instantly he felt that he could hit it out safely. Furthermore, he had not changed in his conviction that it was bad policy to sacrifice with one man down, even though the next two hitters were supposed to be the best stickers on the team, and one of them, Shultz, was his especial chum. Therefore he swung on the ball and met it. Instead of a drive, it proved to be a grounder that went clipping over the skin diamond straight into the hands of Pelty. Like a flash Pelty snapped it to Foxhall, who had leaped on to second, and, turning, Foxhall lined the sphere to first, again completing a fast double play.

Nelson was on his pins, and he intercepted Osgood as the latter, without looking toward him, attempted to pass on the way to his position at third.

“Go to the bench,” said Jack, his voice hoarse and husky. “You’re out of the game, Osgood.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Osgood. “What did you say, sir?”

“I said you’re out of the game. I won’t stand for such rank disobedience.”

“Oh, very well,” said Osgood, coolly turning toward the bench. “You’re the autocrat – at present.”

“What’s the matter?” demanded Shultz, running up. “What’s the trouble, Ned?”

“Nothing,” was the reply, “only I’m benched because I didn’t make a safe hit.”

“If he benches you I’ll quit myself,” threatened Shultz.

“You won’t quit,” said Nelson instantly. “You’re fired. The bench for you, too. Get off the field.”

“Well, wouldn’t that choke you!” gulped Shultz, astonished to have his bluff called so promptly. “How will he fill both our places?”

Nelson showed them in a moment by placing Roy Hooker, one of the spare pitchers, at third, and sending Chub Tuttle to fill center field.

Osgood and Shultz retired to the bench, where they sat talking, the latter showing by his manner that he was thoroughly enraged against his captain, while his friend, more politic and suave, accepted the situation with pretended indifference and disdain.

Although the team had been weakened by the removal of these two players, for the substitutes surely could not fill their positions with an equal amount of skill, Grant betrayed no sign of weakening himself. Pelty and Leach were retired by the strike-out route, and even Crispin’s best performance was a weak grounder on which he perished in a hopeless dash to first.

The tenth inning opened with Tuttle at bat. Chub had never been a hitter, but he did succeed in rolling a weak one to Leach, who threw him out.

“Now, Stoney,” implored Cooper, as the catcher again came up, “you’ve got to do it. He’s been a mark for you. One run is all that we need to take this game. Lace it out.”

Leach was very glad that the bases were empty. Even under those circumstances he began as if he meant to pass this dangerous slugger. After pitching two balls, however, he got one across, and Ben fouled it. Then came another ball, which was followed by a high, speedy shoot.

Stone smashed the horsehide again, bringing every spectator up standing. It was a splendid drive, but Cohen took it on the run and held fast to it.

“Ah-ha! Oh-ho!” whooped Baxter joyously. “Old Eat-’em-alive is finished. Now you have things your own way, Lefty.”

Although Shultz was grinning as Stone came walking back, Osgood politely declined to smile.

Sile Crane sighed as he picked up his bat.

“By Jinks!” he muttered. “I’d sartainly like to make one more hit off that feller. I don’t seem able to touch him no more.” After which he walked to the plate and swung at the first ball pitched with all the strength of his long, sinewy arms.

There was a tremendous ringing crack, and the ball went sailing away, away, far over the center-fielder’s head. The little Oakdale crowd screamed like lunatics, but the Wyndhamites were distressingly silent as the long-geared lad raced over first, second, third, and on to the plate, which he reached ere the ball could be returned to the diamond.

CHAPTER IV – WYNDHAM’S LAST DESPERATE STAND

Charley Shultz sneered openly, with his full red upper lip curved high and exposing his broad teeth, as the delighted Oakdale players congratulated their comrade who had made that opportune home-run drive.

“Look a’ that gangling country jay,” he muttered in Osgood’s ear. “See him grin like a baboon. See him distend his flat chest. Probably he thinks himself a Lajoie or a Wagner.”

“Hush, Charley!” cautioned Osgood gently. “Don’t be too open in your feelings; it’s bad policy. Besides, I’ve got Crane on the string. He’s astride the fence now, and doesn’t know which way he’s going to fall.”

“Oh, all right,” returned Shultz; “but I don’t see what use you can have for him. He hasn’t any money, and his influence doesn’t amount to much.”

“Even the support of the weakest chap may prove of some value when the break comes.”

“After to-day you ought to force things in a hurry. I hope you’re not going to stand for the rotten deal that swell-head Nelson has handed out to us.”

“Have patience, old man – have patience,” soothed Osgood. “I’ll strike when the iron is hot. When possible, a good general always avoids going into an engagement before his plans are properly prepared and his forces strengthened to the full limit.”

The fact that these two disgruntled fellows took no part in the rejoicing of their team seemed to be overlooked at the time; for this was a game in which a run in the tenth inning was of tremendous importance, and, taking into consideration the recent course of the contest, almost an assurance of victory. A triumph over the always formidable Wyndhamites in the season’s first meeting between the two teams would give Oakdale a much desired advantage in the High School League.

“Oh, why can’t I do something like that?” cried Cooper. “It makes my solitary little tap look like ten below zero, and I always get cold feet in that sort of weather.”

Nevertheless, he faced Lefty Leach like a chap exuding confidence from every pore. Leach was frowning and savage in his bearing, but Chipper returned the Wyndham pitcher’s dark look with a cheerful smile, threatening to start the stitches in the horsehide if Lefty dared to put one over.

The thunderstruck and dismayed Wyndham crowd awoke from its benumbed condition and resumed cheering, although there was plainly a disheartened note in the volume of sound, something which the players themselves must have recognized. On the other hand, the Oakdale spectators were once more jubilant with restored confidence in their team and the conviction that Crane’s wonderful wallop had practically decided the result.

Despite Cooper’s aggressive attitude of assurance, Leach unhesitatingly slanted the ball across and continued to do so while the Oakdale shortstop rapped out foul after foul.

“You’ll get him in a minute,” encouraged Baxter. “He never was any good with the war-club.”

Much to Cooper’s sorrow, this prophecy came true, for Chipper finally hoisted a short one back of first for Turner, the baseman, to gather in.

“Only three more men, Grant,” said Nelson. “Get them, and we hang up a scalp.”

“I’ll sure do it if it’s in me,” whispered the Texan to himself, as he made his way to the diamond.

Baxter rushed to the bench to have a few words with his players.

“Don’t be too eager, fellows,” he cautioned; “and still, don’t let him sneak any good ones across. He’s pitching for his life now, but he’ll try to pull you all. If you can start us going, Foxy, we’ll crawl out of this hole right here.”

Making no retort, Foxhall stepped into the batters’ box and watched the Oakdale pitcher make the situation more difficult for himself by failing to find the pan with the first two pitches. An in-shoot followed, and, remembering Baxter’s words, Foxhall picked it off the inside corner with a sharp swing that sent it grass-cutting ten feet inside of third.

Roy Hooker, who was filling Osgood’s position, was not an infielder, and, although he leaped in front of the ball, he failed to keep his feet together, which allowed the humming sphere to go through him cleanly.

“Ha! Look a’ that!” cried Shultz, giving Osgood a nudge. “That would never have happened if you’d been there.”

“Don’t make comparisons – don’t,” said Osgood quickly. “They are odious. He’s going to stretch it into a double.”

Sent onward by the coacher, Foxhall raced over the initial sack and stretched himself for second. It chanced, however, that Sleuth Piper was in position to back Hooker up, and, rushing forward, he took the ball on a favorable bound and threw it to second while still in his stride. It was one of the cleanest pieces of fielding, and perhaps the best throw, Piper had ever made in his baseball career, for it came straight into the hands of Nelson, who disregarded the dangerous spikes of the sliding runner and tagged Foxhall so cleanly and effectively that the locals had not the slightest excuse for a kick on the decision of “out.”

“Well, wouldn’t that cramp you!” muttered Shultz disgustedly. “Why in thunder did the man try to make a double of it?”

“Once more,” said Osgood, “I must caution you not to show your feelings so plainly. Even if we’re benched, we’re still members of the team and – ”

“I don’t know whether I am or not,” rasped the resentful Shultz. “I don’t propose to play on any team where I’m handed a raw deal by a thing like Jack Nelson.”

“Now look here,” said his companion, “you’ll stick on the team unless you’re fired off it, for as members of the nine we’ll have more pull with the bunch than otherwise. You’re too brash, Charley. You haven’t any policy or subtleness. Don’t think for a minute that I’m not just as sore as you, but as injured yet still loyal Oakdalers we can win more sympathy than by open rebellion.”

“I s’pose you’re right,” admitted Shultz; “but I never could control myself the way you can.”

That the Wyndham boys realized how desperate the situation was became manifest through an undisguised quarrel which now arose between Foxhall and two of his teammates who attempted to criticize him.

“What’s the matter with you?” snapped the bitterly disappointed chap. “Pelty sent me down. Chew the rag with him if you’re going to jump on any one. How’d I know that fielder was in position to back up and get the ball to second so soon?”

“Cut that out, all of you,” interposed Baxter. “Stop fussing and play ball. This game isn’t over yet.”

“But it’s pretty well over,” cried Cooper gleefully. “It’s all over but the shouting.”

Cohen, who seemed never troubled by a weak heart, predicted that he would get a hit and begged Wolcott to advance him with a duplicate. Then the nervy young Hebrew stood forth and demonstrated that he had a good eye by refusing to bite at the coaxers and compelling Grant to put the pill across. When this was done, he hit it hard and fair, the resounding crack bringing a shout from the Wyndham crowd.

That shout was abruptly cut short when Cooper shot into the air and pulled Cohen’s drive down with one hand. From the opposite side of the field burst the sudden relieved shrieks of the Oakdalers, whose hearts had been choking them an instant before.

“Keep quiet, Charley,” said Osgood, placing a hand on his friend’s knee. “It looks like it’s really all over. Take your cue from me and pretend you’re happy.”

“You’re asking just a bit too much, Ned,” said Shultz huskily. “You know I’m a poor bluffer in any kind of a game.”

“But you’re usually lucky, just the same; I’ve seen you hold some great cards.”

“Some catch, Chipper – some catch,” Grant was saying happily. “You raked the clouds for that one.”

“I had to do something to make up for my last raw play,” returned the beaming little chap.

Nelson was laughing. “We’re backing you up now, Rodney, old boy. That kind of support ought to give you courage to take a fall out of Wolcott.”

To tell the truth, although he made a pretense of being undismayed and confident, there was really little hope left in Wolcott’s heart. Nevertheless, it was always Wyndham’s way to play a game out without let-up, and the batter showed that he was trying for a hit by fouling the ball several times. Presently, however, the Texan deceived him with one of his most effective drops, and Wolcott’s fruitless slice at the air brought the game to an end with the score 4 to 3 in Oakdale’s favor.

CHAPTER V – THE DIPLOMACY OF OSGOOD

Shultz sullenly watched his teammates giving the losers a complimentary cheer; he could not take his cue from Osgood and join with the slightest pretense of rejoicing in this cheering. And when the happy players gathered up their trappings and started for the adjacent academy, where in the basement gymnasium the Wyndhamites had given them a room in which to change their clothes, Shultz trailed along behind, listening with persistent bitterness to the chattering fellows who were still rejoicing over the result.

“Oh, Craney!” cried Cooper, as he playfully banged Sile with an open hand. “That measly little tap of yours in the last round was certainly a soporific wallop.”

“Here, yeou better let Sleuth slaughter the language that fashion,” grinned Crane. “Soporific! What’s it mean, anyhaow?”

“Why, soothing, sleep-producing; it’s what a prize-fighter hands his antagonist when he gives him a two-ton jolt on the point of the jaw. It put Wyndham down and out, all right.”

“Oh, that didn’t end the game by a long shot. If old Texas hadn’t pitched some in the last half – ”

“Great centipedes!” interrupted Grant. “If you fellows hadn’t given me Big League support they’d corralled the game after all. The way you raked down Cohen’s drive was sure some playing. And that little turn by Piper plugged their promising start right handsomely.”

“I was frightened when Hooker let Foxhall’s grounder get through him,” declared Ned Osgood; “but Sleuth was right on the job. It was a splendid victory.”

Jack Nelson shot the speaker a quizzical glance, but said nothing.

In the gymnasium they continued to discuss the game while peeling off their soiled uniforms and getting into the heavy clothes which would be so necessary to their comfort on the long homeward drive; and, unable to keep still, Shultz cut in with an occasional sarcastic remark. For a time no one seemed to notice him, but suddenly Grant, unable to hold himself longer in restraint, turned on the disgruntled fellow.

“Quit your beefing,” he exclaimed. “Why don’t you try to follow Osgood’s trail and make a pretense of being decent, whether you feel that way or not?”

The blood which suffused Shultz’s face turned it almost purple, and he glared at the Texan as if he longed to seize the fellow by the throat and smash his head against the wall.

“I’ve got a right to open my mouth,” he snarled, “and I propose to say what I please, regardless of any common, cow-punching – ”

They would have been at it in a twinkling had not Nelson promptly leaped between them.

“Stop, Grant! Hold up!” he cried, seizing the pitcher, whose face was beginning to take on that awesome and terrible look which indicated that his fiery temper was mastering him. “Don’t start a scrap. It will be bad – bad business.”

“I certainly won’t allow anybody to shoot off his mouth at me that fashion,” said Rodney, his voice vibrant with the passion he could scarcely restrain. “He’s been sneering and hollering like the sorehead he is, and it’s sure getting too much for me.”

“It’s my affair, if it’s anybody’s,” asserted the captain. “I’m the one’s he’s sore on.”

“And only for a lucky piece of work by Piper, you’d lost the game by putting Hooker in Osgood’s place,” said Shultz. “Just because he disagreed with you about sacrificing when he got the kind of a ball he knew he ought to hit out, you show your authority by benching him. Sacrificing in such a game, with one man down and a good hitter at bat, would be laughed at by – ”

“That will do for you,” Nelson cut him short. “No man on the team can talk to me this way, much less a new player like you. If you and Osgood came to Oakdale with the idea that you’re going to run the nine or ruin it, you may as well get that out of your noddles right away.”

By this time Osgood had his friend by the arm.

“Cool down, Charley,” he advised in his most pacifying manner. “You’re giving a wrong impression by letting yourself get excited. I’m sure we were both just as eager to help win that game as any one. In fact, I will assert that it was my eagerness which led me to try for a hit when Leach put the ball over just where I like ’em best. It’s true it seemed to me we’d be weakening ourselves by a sacrifice with one man down, but still, I meant to follow instructions when I went to the plate. It was only when I saw that ball coming across the pan so nicely that I forgot everything and tried to land on it for a safe drive. Even though in that moment I was led to forget instructions, I must insist that my heart was right. I’ve played the game ever since I was old enough to toss a ten-cent ball, and I learned something of its fine points at Hadden Hall. I’m not blaming Captain Nelson if his ideas and mine are not fully in accord, for baseball down here in this country can scarcely be as advanced as it is – ”

At this point Nelson suddenly threw back his head and laughed, although perhaps it was not a laugh of simple amusement.

“That has been your pose ever since you came to Oakdale,” he said. “Your pity for us poor, ignorant countrymen is wholly appreciated, Osgood. It may be that we’re very shortsighted in failing to perceive the splendid opportunity we have for learning something about real baseball from you and Shultz, but it seems that you might find a more delicate and less egotistical method of opening our sleepy eyes.”

For a single breathless moment it seemed that Osgood was on the verge of permitting this sarcasm to lead him into a touch of temper, at least; but he was crafty and far too clever not to realize that such a thing would be likely to put him at a disadvantage in the eyes of some members of the team whom he had reasons to think were inclined to sympathize with him.

“I didn’t come to Oakdale to teach baseball or anything else,” he asserted. “I think I’ve stated before this that Oakdale Academy was a school of my mother’s choice, not mine, and mothers who are fearful of the temptations which their sons may encounter in large and really efficient schools sometimes have peculiar ideas.”

“Fathers, too,” put in Shultz, with a curl of his red lips. “My old man was determined that I should get my preparatory education far from the evil influences of the really wide-awake world, and so he buried me in a forsaken graveyard.”

“Too bad abaout yeou poor fellers,” Sile Crane could not refrain from observing.

“I enjoy baseball,” Osgood hastily went on. “I love the game. I was glad when it seemed assured that I’d have a chance to play on the academy nine. However, I scarcely fancied it would be considered a fault or a detriment that I happened to know something about the game as it’s played to-day not only in big schools and colleges, but in big leagues. I’ve never missed an opportunity of seeing a Big League game and trying to wise up on the methods of the players. I’d like to see Oakdale win out this season, and my interest in our success is so great that if I thought for a moment I would produce discord and disaffection on the team I’d voluntarily withdraw.”

This assertion was made with an air of earnestness and sincerity, but the fellow had spoken craftily, with the design of spiking Nelson’s guns, being certain that the captain suspected him of the very purpose which he so ardently disclaimed. Shultz, who knew his friend’s secret motives better than any one else, really found it difficult to suppress a grin, while inwardly he was telling himself that Osgood certainly was a “slick duck.” Why, Nelson was not only flanked, but his line of defense was cut off completely!

In a vague way the captain seemed to feel something of this, but still his quick perception told him that to a large extent Osgood had created a favorable impression, which would only be increased were his motives doubted.

“Well, that’s all right,” said Jack, a bit bluffly. “That’s all we can ask of any chap. You’ve both shown that you can play baseball, and if you show a willingness to respect the wishes of your captain that should be sufficient. We want players loyal to the team and to the school.”

Right here Shultz made another break. “The school!” he laughed. “We’ll be loyal to the team all right if we’re given a show, but you must know that the school is almost a joke. It’s taught by a dead one, with a lot of decayed back numbers as directors. Right here at Wyndham they have got a professor who’s alive and who takes interest in some things besides books. Old Prof. Richardson has outlived his usefulness as a teacher. He’s let the times pass on and leave him about thirty years behind. Who ever saw him at a baseball game, or any similar sport? The Wyndham prof was out here to-day watching the go, and he seemed as interested as any one. When Professor Richardson gets through with the day’s session he toddles home to dressing-gown, slippers and tea. How a school with such a head can stand as well in athletics as Oakdale does certainly gets me.”

“It’s true,” admitted Nelson, “that Professor Richardson has never taken any real genuine interest in outdoor sports, but he’s a good principal and does his work well in the class room. His health isn’t always the best. Everyone who knows him well respects him, at least, and I’m sorry to hear you say what you have, Shultz.”

“I’ve simply stated a fact. Some day Oakdale will wake up to it, too, and the old man will lose his job. Some day before long you’ll see a younger, more up-to-date principal filling his shoes. It will be a mighty good thing if that time comes soon.”

“Let’s not discuss that,” interposed Osgood. “Whether Professor Richardson is efficient or not has nothing to do with the matter that threatened to produce a disturbance and some hard feelings on the team. That business is all settled now, and I think we understand that we’re a nine united and anxious to do our best to win the championship. Come, fellows, let’s forget it all. I’m going to.”

This magnanimity had its effect, and, as they completed dressing for the jaunt home, the boys were again chattering and jesting, as if no threatening cloud had risen.