ay: If we expect
to win any games we've got to have a fellow like Grier in the box, but
Siebold will stick to Maxwell who is about a fifth rater--at his best."

"But has Siebold all the say?" Bill queried.

"A good deal of it. You see his father backs up the boy in everything,
and he has put the club on its feet financially, in a bigger way than
even the Guilford team. Moreover, the elder Siebold's money built our
grandstand, the dressing-rooms and hired our pitchers for quite a while.
So young Siebold can afford to play politics and insure a following,
which nobody, even the professors, can stop. And the faculty and the
Doctor don't bother over the matter. That chap is going to be a state
senator, or a Congressman some day, I have no doubt."

"It won't work, though, Mr. Gay," declared Bill, "because it isn't
justice. Others besides Siebold are interested in and loyal to the
school. We want to see our team win, don't we?"

"Yes, of course. I'm going to shoot that at Siebold and, if you'll let
me, I'm going to hint that we have a pitcher among us who outranks his
choice in all the high points."

It was on the next afternoon, which was rainy, that Bill found the
library pretty full of readers and among them were six or seven of the
ball team. He took a seat beside Dixon and directly across the table
from Siebold and Sadler. He turned to Dixon:

"When is the next ball game?" he asked.

"We play Springdale next Saturday, but they're easy. The last game with
Guilford is Saturday week."

"It's too bad that we get licked so unmercifully when there's no need
for it," Bill remarked.

"No need for it? No, there's no need for it, but----"

"I suppose we have needed it to put some sense into us, but no longer.
It would be pretty easy to clean that bunch if we went at it right."

"How easy?" asked Dixon.

"Why, you know without asking that. Putting a good man in the box and
another behind the bat, of course."

"Where'd you get your good man?"

"Here in the school."

"Who?"

"I guess you'll have to keep your eyes open. Anybody ought to----"

"Listen to this, Siebold." Dixon leaned over the table. "Brown says
we've got pitching material----"

"Well, what of it? Don't I know it?"

"It's a blamed sure bet he doesn't know it, or if he does he ought to be
jailed for conspiracy to beat the school team," laughed Bill, still
addressing Dixon.

"How's that, Brown? What's your dope?" ventured Sadler, who alone really