“Well, he will take it out of us to-morrow,” said Danforth hopefully, and every one brightened up. But Danforth was mistaken, for Tuesday’s practice was much like Monday’s. They were kept out a quarter of an hour longer, but Payson still wore the same look of untroubled ease he had worn the day before, and not once did he find fault. Corrections were suggested pleasantly now and then, but no harsh, compelling demands to “Ginger up, now!” or “Get into it! Get into it!” passed the coach’s lips. When he wasn’t batting up, Payson stood, for the most part, in tranquil conversation with Andy Ryan, the trainer.
The result was that Captain Millener and the players themselves took affairs into their own hands, and as soon as it became evident that Payson didn’t care whether they worked hard or not, they began to make things hum. While it lasted it was the snappiest practice of the year. When, all too soon, Payson called a halt, the fellows went off secretly exultant; they had done their work well in spite of Payson!
“I guess we showed him!” whispered little Durfee to Reid, casting a triumphant glance at Payson. “We’ll win that game Saturday whether he wants us to or not!”
After the fellows had left the field, Payson and Ryan fell into step and followed them up the path to the gymnasium. There was admiration in the trainer’s tone as he turned to the coach with:
“Well, sir, it worked like you said it would! I’d never have believed it!” Payson nodded.
“Yes,” he replied, “they think they’re getting the best of me, and they’re tickled to death.” He smiled. “I’ll have to give them a little stiffer practice to-morrow, or they’ll mob me!”
But there was one player who, even though he was only a substitute, wasn’t fooled. That was Dan. He and Alf talked it over in the latter’s room that evening, while Tom and Gerald played chess.
“Don’t you fool yourself,” said Dan. “Payson knows what he’s doing, Alf. This afternoon when Millener was ragging Smith for not running in with the ball after catching a fly, I saw Payson grinning away like anything. He thought no one was looking. But I was. He just made up his mind that if he let you fellows alone for a few days you’d get mad and play the game just to spite him! And you’re doing it, too!”
“‘Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings,’” murmured Alf. “Well, maybe you’re right, O Solomon the Great. I believe you are. For it isn’t like Payson to get cold feet; he isn’t a quitter, not by a long shot! Anyhow, it worked. We had the worst case of slump I ever did see last Saturday, and now every fellow’s on his toes again, and just aching for work. If we keep it up we’ll give Broadwood the biggest surprise of their lives on Saturday. I wouldn’t be surprised if that licking that Pell School gave us turned out to be a very fortunate thing. We’re all hot under the collar about it. We want to get back at some one, and Broadwood’s the only victim in sight. Yes, I believe there’ll be a whole lot doing Saturday! Say, that was a dandy two-bagger of yours to-day. Just a nice, clean hit that came when it was needed. Why don’t you do that sort of thing oftener? You’d make the team in a minute, if you did.”
“Oh, I guess it was an accident,” replied Dan. “I’ve about concluded that it’s always an accident when I connect with the ball. I can’t judge ’em for a cent.”