Joe could not help thinking of the coincidence of meeting the head coach but, though he did have slight hopes that it might lead to something, he resolutely put them out of his mind.
“I don’t want to get on even the ’varsity that way!” he said to himself that night, when the visitors were gone, and he and Spike had turned in. “I want to win my way.”
Nevertheless, he could not help a feeling of slight nervousness the next day, when he reported for practice.
“Well, same old gag over again I suppose,” remarked Spike, as they went out to toss and catch.
“I suppose so,” agreed Joe.
He passed Mr. Hasbrook, who was giving some instructions to the fielders just before the ’varsity-class game, but the head coach did not even notice Joe.
After some batting and catching, and some warming-up work on the part of the pitchers, Mr. Benson called for a cessation of practice.
“Here is the batting order and positions of the nines for to-day,” he announced, producing a paper. He began to read off the names. For the ’varsity they were the same as the day before. Joe, who had permitted himself a faint hope, felt his heart sinking.
“For the opposition, or scrub,” announced the assistant coach, and he ran down the line, until there was but one place unfilled—that of pitcher.
“Joe Matson!” he called, sharply.