“Maybe he feels that he doesn’t have to, for Langridge seems to make good nearly every time,” spoke Tom.
“Aw, rats! All that keeps Langridge manager is his money. He certainly runs the financial end of the game to perfection. And if he wasn’t manager he wouldn’t be pitcher. But the fellows know he takes a lot of responsibility from them, and they’re just easy enough to let things slide. Some day we’ll be up against it. Langridge will be knocked out of the box, Evert won’t be in form, and we’ll lose the game.”
“Unless they call on ‘yours truly,’” interjected Tom with a laugh.
“Exactly,” agreed Dutch seriously. “That’s my point. I wish they’d name you for sub. I’m going to ask——”
“No, no!” expostulated Tom quickly. “If I can’t get there on my own merits, I don’t want it. No favors, please. I can wait.”
“Well, just as you say, of course. But say, there’s the Grasshopper. Watch me make him jump.”
He pointed to Pete Backus, a tall student, who seemed to be measuring off a certain distance on a grassy stretch down near the river.
“Looks as if he was going to jump without you making him,” observed Tom.
“Oh, he’s always jumping. He thinks he’s great at it. Wants to make the track team, but he can’t seem to do it. He’ll do his distance easily one day and fall down the next. You can’t depend on him. But I’ll make him jump now. Sneak down behind those bushes.”
Tom followed Dutch softly. There were no other students about and they managed to gain the screen of the bushes unobserved by the Grasshopper, who was intent on measuring distances with a pocket tape. The two conspirators could see where he had been practicing the broad jump.