“I’d rather not tell. You’ll probably find out for yourself before long. I did, though not many know it.”
“You mean——”
“I’m not going to say what I mean. Only,” and Sid suddenly sat up, “it may increase your chances of pitching on the ’varsity.”
“I think I know,” said Tom slowly, and he began to get ready for bed.
A practice game between the ’varsity and the scrub was called for the next afternoon. The first team was in rather disorganized shape yet. That is to say, not all the players were in permanent positions and shifts were likely to be made at any time as practice brought out defects or merits. It was even said that some now on the ’varsity might be relegated to the scrub and some from the second team advanced. Tom secretly hoped so in his case, but his common sense told him he stood a slim chance. Langridge, of course, was pitcher on the first team and Kerr was the catcher. Kindlings Woodhouse played on third, where he could direct the efforts of his men.
When the scrub and regular teams were out on the diamond ready for the practice game Kindlings looked over his players.
“Where’s Sid Henderson?” he asked.
“He got turned back in Latin at last class,” volunteered Jerry Jackson.
“Here he comes now,” added Joe Jackson, as if he was an echo to his brother.
Sid came running up, all out of breath, buttoning his blouse as he advanced.