Tom could fancy Mr. Lighton thanking him for the information about Langridge and could even imagine the coach acting on it and warning the pitcher. Tom could see the look on the face of Kindlings when he was told. It would be a revelation. Yet for all the service that he rendered to the team there would be but one construction put upon Tom’s act by his classmates—he would be accused of informing in order to oust Langridge so that he might have the pitcher’s place.
“And I can’t do that,” declared Tom to himself. “I’ll have to find some other way. I’ll make one more try with Langridge.”
Sid’s limp did not save him in Latin, for he “slumped” most ungracefully, and with a black look Professor Tines marked a failure against him, accompanying it with words of warning. As for Tom, his worry over the secret caused him to pay too scant attention in his geography class, and he was caught napping, whereat the instructor looked surprised, for Tom was one of the best students.
The next day the scrub team went on a little trip to Morriston to play a small semi-professional nine, and Tom had a chance to show what he could do in the box. He gave a fine exhibition of pitching, so much so that the other nine was held down to a goose-egg score, and there were very few hits secured off Tom. The scrubs were wild about it and held a celebration, for it was the best victory they had scored yet.
During the next few days Tom saw little of Langridge. In fact the ’varsity pitcher seemed to be keeping out of the way of the lad who had remonstrated with him.
“I’ll see him at the Boxer game Saturday,” thought Tom. “If I get a chance, I’ll make one more attempt, though I’m afraid it won’t do any good.”
The next Boxer contest was a sort of annual mid-season affair. It was a game which members of the alumnæ of both colleges made it a point to attend in even greater numbers than at the contests deciding the championship. In fact of late years there had been no chance for such exhibitions, for Randall did not have a “look in” at the pennant, as Holly Cross used to say.
The game was to take place on the Randall grounds, and before the hour when it was to be played the stands and bleachers began filling up. It was a beautiful afternoon about the middle of May and a better one for a game could not have been had, even if made to order.
Oh, how Tom wanted to play! But he could only look on. The regular team came out for practice, with the substitutes waiting for a chance to go in. Then out trotted the Boxer Hall lads, to be received with a cheer. There were pretty girls galore, each one waving the flag of her particular college. Tom moved about in the grandstand, trying to pretend to himself that he was not looking for any one, but all the same his heart gave a great thump when he heard some one call: