The businesslike voice of Coach Steele rang through the room.
"All right, Roger," responded Bob Somers. "Who's got my glove—you, Dave? Good! Shoot that ball over here, Tom. Thanks! Here go, 'Jack Frost.'"
With a "Hello, 'Pie-eater'!" addressed to Ted Pollock, the pitcher got to work, Phil Brentall, catcher, having taken his position behind the big chalk mark on the gymnasium mat.
"Take it easy, boys," warned Coach Steele. "Danger of straining your arms if you don't. Cut out those fancy capers, Clifton."
"Shoot it over, Dave," Bob Somers was saying. "Put plenty of ginger behind it, too. Better get over this way a little further, so we won't be in danger of putting 'Jack Frost' out of business."
The snappy work which followed brought a smile of approval to the coach's face. Several other candidates for pitchers followed Frost. Then came batting practice. Some of the boys were able to solve "Jack Frost's" delivery. Frequently the crack of the bats reverberated sharply through the building, and the wire netting stopped some pretty hard drives.
Steele showed his men many fine points in the art of sliding to bases, and Tom Clifton distinguished himself on the big mats spread about for this purpose.
Occasionally the candidates "cut loose," and by the time practice for the afternoon was over most of them were warm and happy.
Earl Roycroft had made a good showing. Everybody who liked the big football guard—and that meant almost every one in the room—was jubilant.
"He's all to the good as a baseball tosser," declared Ted Pollock. "We'll surely see him in a brand new uniform playing at first or short."