Luce took the bat and stood by the home plate.

To-day the coach did not intend to strike at any of the balls, but he and the two members of the Athletic Committee would judge, and award marks to the candidates.
"Oh, we don't want the dub! Trot out Rip!" came a roaring chorus.
Coach Luce, however, from this time on, paid no heed to the shouts or demands of spectators.
The candidate for box honors now displayed all he knew about pitching, though some nervousness doubtless marred his performance.
"Now, run out Rip!" came the insistent chorus again, after this candidate had shown his curves and had gone back.
But it was another member of the junior class who came to the box for the next trial.
"Dead ball! Throw wild and cut it short!" came the advice from the seats.
Then a sophomore was tried out.

But the crowd was becoming highly impatient.
"We want Rip! We demand Rip.

Give us Rip or give us chloroform!" came the insistent clamor.

"We'll come another day to see the dead ones, if you insist." Coach Luce looked over at Fred, and nodded.