They separated at the gymnasium door, each going to his own part of the locker rooms to dress. A few minutes later, as Dick was running upstairs to his regular gymnasium work, he caught the sound of Sands’s voice exhorting the squad in the baseball cage. He paused a moment with a smile of approval on his lips, as he marked the steady, confident tones, and recalled the captain’s sturdy resolve to hold to the merit system in choosing the nine. Then Flanahan’s lanky figure loomed up by the doorway, and the smile on Melvin’s face died suddenly away. He turned abruptly and went on his way upstairs.
“Phil,” said Melvin that night, as the junior came in after supper, “should you really like to try for the nine?”
“Should I!” the boy’s eyes sparkled. “If I had the ghost of a chance of being kept on the squad till we got outdoors, I’d say ‘yes’ right off.”
“What can you play best?” asked Melvin.
“I’ve always played in the out-field,” Poole replied rather humbly. “I’m fairly safe on flies, and could always throw a little farther and a little straighter than the other fellows.”
“An out-fielder must be a good hitter or they won’t keep him. Can you bat?”
“They used to say I had a good eye,” returned Phil, who was not used to singing his own praises. “I’m not heavy enough for long hits.”
“If you’re sure on the elements, go in and try,” said Melvin, “but you must do your level best. The only way for you to accomplish anything is just to devote your whole thought and attention out of study hours to baseball and nothing but baseball. Do everything you’re told to do and more. Study yourself all the time. Get help outside that the others haven’t. Hang to the squad till they kick you off, and when that happens, organize a nine of your own and keep up your practice. If they call you a fool and a crank, just laugh and keep on playing. Are you willing to do all that?”
The color deepened on Phil’s cheeks as he listened. “I’ll do more than that,” he cried; “I’ll shack balls, I’ll tend the bats, I’ll carry water, I’ll do anything they put upon me. I’ll try this year and next and the year after, but if there’s any baseball in me, I’ll make the nine before I leave school.”
“Good!” exclaimed the senior, giving the boy’s hand a squeeze that made the bones crack. “I don’t know much about baseball, but that’s the spirit that wins. Only don’t talk about what you’re going to do. Think a lot, but keep your thoughts to yourself. When you play, play with all your might.”