olks were poor, and some people even thought the big, overgrown
boy should be at work helping to keep the wolf from the door, instead
of still attending high school and making himself a nuisance to
decent folks through his delight in practical jokes and his bullying
propensities.

But even those who detested Nick Lang the most were willing to admit
that he was a pretty fair athlete and could even have excelled along
several lines if only he were able to control that nasty temper of
his and "play fair."

There were two other fellows, who were cronies of Nick's, and who,
apparently, had entered for some of the events, because both Leon
Disney and Tip Slavin were in evidence and hard at work practicing.

Nick secretly hated, even as he also feared, Mr. Leonard, because the
under-teacher had once cowed him and made him "eat humble pie" before
the whole class; but, being a wise as well as pugnacious boy, Nick
managed to keep his feelings under control, and when Mr. Leonard was
around he usually behaved himself.

Later in the afternoon, when most of the boys out for practice had
become more or less tired from their exertions, they gathered here and
there in little bunches to exchange "chaff," and express their
opinions concerning various matters that had a bearing on the coming
tournament.

So Hugh Morgan found himself in a cluster that contained several of
his chums, as well as a sprinkling of other fellows. A trio of
lively high school girls hovered near, and occasionally joined in
the conversation. They were Sue Barnes, whom Hugh usually counted on
as his partner when any dance was given in the country, or at
singing-school during the winter evenings; Ivy Middleton, Thad's
choice for company, because she was both jolly and genial; and pretty
Peggy Noland, whom Owen Dugdale liked, as had also Nick Lang, though
the latter had of late been badly snubbed by the scornful Peggy
because she could not stand for his rowdy ways.

"Mr. Leonard says he's fully satisfied with the way most of the fellows
are showing up," Joe Danvers was saying, about that time.

"Well, we can't afford to loaf, for a fact," remarked Just Smith,
soberly. "Let me tell you something, fellows. I was down in Paul
Kramer's sporting emporium just last evening, when who should walk in
but Big Ed. Patterson, the Allandale pitcher, who came so near to
downing us last summer. He looks as fine as silk, and told me privately
he calculates on carrying o