"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 ?" As the boys of the squad waited for an answer, a low laugh began to ripple around the gym.

The very idea of any fellow trying after Ripley had made his wonderful showing was wholly funny! Coach Luce called out the names of another small squad to scatter over the gym.

and to throw the ball to anyone he named.

Except for the few who were in this forced work, no attention was paid to the players.
Fred Ripley had walked complacently to one side of the gym.

A noisy, gleeful group formed around him.
"Rip, where did you ever learn that great work ?" "Who taught you ?" "Say, how long have you been hiding that thousand-candle-power light under a bushel ?" "Rip, it was the greatest work I ever saw a boy do." "Will you show me---after the nine has been made up, of course ?" "How did you ever get it down so slick ?" This was all meat to the boy who had long been unpopular.
"I always was a pretty fair pitcher, wasn't I ?" asked Fred.
"Yes; but never anything like the pitcher you showed us to-day," glowed eager Parkinson.
"I've been doing a good deal of practicing and study since the close of last season," Fred replied importantly.