his breath coming jerkily.

Three fine inshoots followed. The hundreds on the seats were
standing up now. Then, to rest his arm, Dick, who was wholly
collected, and as cool as a veteran under fire, served the spectators
with a glimpse of an out-curve that was not quite like any that
they had ever seen before. This out-curve had a suspicion of
the jump-ball about it.

Dick was pitching easily, now. He had gotten his warming and
his nerve, and appeared to work without conscious strain.

"Do you want more, sir?" called Dick, at last.

"No," decided Coach Luce. "You've done enough, Prescott.
Mr. Darrin!"

Dave ran briskly to the box, opening the wrappings on a new ball
as he stepped into the box. After the first two balls Dave's
exhibition was swift, certain, fine. He had almost reached Dick
with his performance.

Ripley's bewildered astonishment was apparent in his face.

"Thunder, I'd no idea they could do anything like that!" gasped
Fred to himself. "They're very nearly as good as I am. How in
blazes did they ever get hold of the wrinkles? They can't afford
a man like Everett."

"Any more candidates?" called Coach Luce. There weren't. No