Dade Morgan was making excellent showing. He had a good eye for the ball when batting, and he could sprint to first like a deer. When it came to sliding, he slipped over the ground in an easy, graceful manner that was deserving of applause.
Frank felt like giving Morgan a word of praise, but remembering the past, and not knowing just what the effect on Dade would be, he refrained from doing so.
Dick Starbright, the giant freshman, was in the midst of the work, and he went at it with an energy that seemed almost savage. A change had come over him, and the good-natured, pleasant look that had seemed habitual had vanished before one of stern determination.
Indeed, Dick was doing everything possible to keep his mind from dwelling on a certain beautiful dark-eyed girl whom he now knew was lost to him. He studied hard, worked hard, played hard, and in this manner succeeded fairly well in his purpose.
He had read in Frank’s happy face the result of the trip to Fardale, but it had been exactly what he expected.
And Frank’s talk with Hodge had seemed to transform Bart, who had been fretful, listless, and ill-natured before, failing to take much interest in the cage-work or seeming to care whether Yale put a winning team on the field or not.
Now Hodge went into the work with vim and earnestness, and he actually smiled occasionally, which was so remarkable that it caused more than one to comment upon it.
Defarge had seen Merriwell talking to Mason, and at the first opportunity the French youth spoke to the Southerner.
“Did you get a calling down from the high muck-a-muck of this combination?” sneeringly asked Bertrand.
“What do you mean, sah?” demanded Hock.