“Well, I guess it did come pretty near amounting to that,” laughed Jerry. “Anyhow, he demanded, so I heard, and was given the right to say who should and should not play on the varsity. In his capacity as captain and manager he retains that right. If he doesn’t want a fellow to play, that fellow keeps on the scrub or sits on the bench.”
“And he doesn’t want us to play,” remarked Ned, bitterly.
“It doesn’t seem so,” agreed Jerry. “But we’ll wait.”
“It’s a funny state of affairs,” remarked Bob, “where one fellow can run the whole varsity nine and say who shall and who sha’n’t play.”
“Yes, it is,” admitted the tall chum. “But in this case it has worked out well, for Boxwood Hall won the championship last year, which it never did before, and defeated the military academy two out of the three games which are an annual feature. So that’s why the fellows let Frank have his way. They knew he made the nine, and he’s making good with it yet. It isn’t that we can play better than the fellows on it, it’s just that I want to be on the varsity.”
“So do I!” chimed in Ned and Bob.
“And we’ve just got to wait until Frank either changes his mind, or until we can show that we can play so much better than some of the regulars that there’ll be a demand that we go in,” finished Jerry. “Now let’s go for a ride and forget our troubles.”
Ned was still bitter against Frank, though, and did not see why the three chums could not be put on the varsity.
As the three were riding off, Professor Snodgrass, equipped with his net and specimen box, hailed them.
“My first butterfly hunt of the season!” he called to the boys. “I’m after some Argynnis cybele specimens, which appear with the first violets.”