"Yes; but never anything like the pitcher you showed us to-day," glowed eager Parkinson.
"I've been doing a good deal of practicing and study since the close of last season," Fred replied importantly. "I've studied out a lot of new things. I shan't show them all, either, until the real season begins."
Fred's glance, in roaming around, took in Dick & Co. For once, these six very popular sophomores had no one else around them.
"Whew! I think I've taken some wind out of the sails of Mr. Self-satisfied Prescott," Fred told himself jubilantly. "We shan't hear so much about Dick & Co. for a few months!"
"Well, anyway, Dick," said Tom Reade, "you and Dave needn't feel too badly. If Ripley turns out to be the nine's crack pitcher, the nine also carries two relief pitchers. You and Dave have a chance to be the relief pitchers. That will make the nine for you both, anyway. But, then, that spitball may be the only thing Ripley knows."
"Don't fool yourself," returned Prescott, shaking his head. "If Ripley can do that one so much like a veteran, then he knows other styles of tossing, too. I'm glad for Gridley High School—-mighty glad. I wouldn't mind on personal grounds, either, if only—-if——-"
"If Fred Ripley were only a half decent fellow," Harry Hazelton finished for him.
Coach Luce soon dismissed the squad for the day. A few minutes later the boys left the gym. in groups. Of course the pitching they had seen was the sole theme. Ripley didn't have to walk away alone to-day. Coach Luce and a dozen of the boys stepped along with him in great glee.
"It's Rip! Old Rip will be the most talked about fellow in any
High School league this year," Parkinson declared, enthusiastically.
Even the fellows who actually despised Fred couldn't help their jubilation. Gridley was strong in athletics just because of the real old Gridley High School spirit. Gridley's boys always played to win. They made heroes of the fellows who could lead them to victory after victory.