CHAPTER XX. HOW ALL THINGS CAME OUT AT LAST.
When the spring of Junior year came around, Frank Armstrong enrolled himself in the baseball squad. The rest of nearly a year had apparently completely cured his arm, and he became at once one of the leading candidates for pitcher. Coach Quinton had engaged the services of a professional pitcher from one of the big leagues for the early practice, and from this man Frank learned much about the art of pitching. Quinton was careful, however, not to work him in cold weather, fearing a return of the trouble in his pitching arm. The result of this careful handling was that he rounded into form in mid-season, and was the mainstay of the nine in the box. Turner was the receiving end of the battery, and together they became the terror of opposing nines.
At the end of a season which was only partly successful, with a victory from Princeton and a defeat by Harvard, the latter caused by Yale's inability to hit the ball with men on bases, Frank Armstrong was unanimously elected captain for Senior year.
"I think the way you two fellows are hogging the Ys and captaincies around here is disgraceful," complained the Codfish one night. "Armstrong ought to be ashamed. Turner is bad enough with football and baseball, but Armstrong is nothing short of a Y trust, with three different kinds of them. Why aren't you modest like I am?"
Frank laughed.
"Some are born Ys," paraphrased the Codfish, "some achieve Ys and some have Ys thrust upon them."
"You ought to be put out for that," said Frank. "But I say, how would you like to score for us next year?"
"To cover up your errors, eh?"