"Well, sir," replied Dick, wheeling around to the principal, every trace of resentment gone from his young face, "I should say that Pendleton's most noticeable trick is the way he twists and handles the ball when he's getting ready to drive in his curve. I watched Pendleton's work that day, and I think I stole the principle on which he uses his right wrist."
"Show me," unsuspiciously invited Old Dut.
Dick started to curve an imaginary ball in his right hand, then glanced over the principal's desk. A small, but thick, heavy book lay there.
"Well, I should say," Prescott resumed, "that Pendleton handles the ball about like this."
Picking up the book, Dick used both hands in trying to give it the right preliminary curve.
"But his delivery is, of course, the great feature," the lad went on. "When Pendleton has the ball curved just right, he raises his right and lets it go like this!"
Dick was facing the bevy of girls. They were so certain he was going to hurl the book in their direction that they scattered with little cries of alarm.
So forcefully had young Prescott prepared for the throw that the book did leave his hand, though the boy made a frantic effort—apparently—to recover the missile.
Not toward the retreating girls, however, did the book fly. It spun nearly at right angles, and——
Smack! it went, full into the face of Principal E. Dutton Jones.