Two days before the game with Golden University the blow fell. Larry Kirkland, playing the best ball he ever had played and inspired with confidence and the hope of winning his C, was at the athletic field early, busily engaged in catching with Katsura.
“You want to be ready, Katty,” he cautioned. “Arksall is likely to weaken at any time and if he does you are our only hope. I believe Haxton knows it. He has been studying you every day. He asked Torney about you and the big fellow said you had him all puzzled, because it looked as if the batters would kill every ball you pitched, and they couldn’t hit it at all.”
“I’ll be ready,” smiled Katsura. “I have studied the Golden batters. Last year I watched them and when they played St. Mary’s this year I sat in the stands. I saw many things that I would have done very differently.”
“Kirkland!”
The call came from a group of older men gathered near the front of the stands, who for some time had appeared to be in earnest conversation.
“Coming,” called Larry cheerfully as he trotted along the front of the stands to the lower boxes and leaped the barrier at a bound. He had recognized Professor Terbush, the representative of the faculty, and Clark, the student representative. They were with Haxton and Paw Lattiser, and several seniors, and seemed to be excited over something.
“Mr. Kirkland,” said Professor Terbush quickly. “This is rather serious and I hope you will answer our questions honestly and frankly. I warn you any attempt at deceit will be discovered.”
“Oh, I say, Professor,” drawled Lattiser, “that sounds as if you had found Kirkland guilty already.”
“I admit the circumstances look bad for him,” said the professor, frowning at the challenge. “I still hope the young man may be able to prove that he is innocent.”
“Innocent of what?” gasped Larry, too taken aback to understand fully what was meant. “What am I charged with?”