CHAPTER IX

FRED PITCHES A BOMBSHELL INTO TRAINING CAMP


"One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!

"Halt! Rest!"

"Attention! Overhead to front and back. Commence! One, two,
three, four!"

Coach Luce's voice rang out in a solid, carrying tone of military
command.

The baseball squad was hard at work in the gymnasium, perspiring
even though the gym. was not heated above fifty degrees.

Dumb-bell drill was going off with great snap. It was followed
by work with the Indian clubs. Then, after a brief rest, the
entire squad took to the track in the gallery. For ten minutes
the High School young men jogged around the track. Any fellow
in the lot would have been ashamed to drop out, short of breath.

As a matter of fact, no one was out of breath. Mr. Luce was what
the boys called a "griller," and he certainly knew all about whipping