"Try it, and see, Ripley," urged Mr. Luce, again swinging his
bat.

Fred had been holding the returned ball for a minute or two.
His face was flushed, his eyes glowing. Never before had he made
such a hit among his schoolmates. It was sweet, at last, to taste
the pleasures of local fame.

He stood gazing about him, drinking in the evident delight of
the High School boys. In fact he did not hear the coach's order
until it came again.

"Try another one, Ripley!"

The young man moistened his fingers, placing the ball carefully.
Of a sudden his arm shot out. Again the coach struck for what
looked a fair ball, yet once more Mr. Luce fanned air and the
catcher straightened up, ball in hand.

Pumph! The lazily thrown ball landed in Ripley's outstretched
left. He moistened his fingers, wet the ball, and let drive
almost instantly. For the third time Mr. Luce fanned out.

Then Fred spoke, in a tone of satisfied self-importance:

"Coach, that's all I'll do this afternoon, if you don't mind."

"Right," nodded Mr. Luce. "You don't want to strain your work
before you've really begun it any other candidates for pitching
want to have a try now?"