rough-house yet--wait," ordered Dale.
"Ward's here of his own free will!"

Silence ensued after the captain spoke. While he turned to lock the
door the Sophs stared open-mouthed at Ken. Arthurs had a worried look,
and he kept his hand on Ken. Dale went to a table and began filling his
pipe. Then he fixed sharp, thoughtful eyes upon his visitors.

"Worry, you say you brought this freshman here to talk baseball?" he asked.

"Sure I did," blustered Arthurs. It was plain now where he got the name
that Dale called him. "What's in the wind, anyhow?"

Dale then gravely spoke to Ken. "So you came here to see me? Sorry
you slugged me once? Want to make up for it somehow, because you think
you've a chance for the team, and don't want me to be sore on you?
That it?"

"Not exactly," replied Ken. "I'd want to let you get square with me even
if you weren't the varsity captain."

"Well, you've more than squared yourself with me--by coming here. You'll
realize that presently. But don't you know what's happened, what the
freshmen have done?"

"No; I don't."

"You haven't been near the university since this afternoon when you
pulled off the potato stunt?"

"I should say I haven't."

This brought a laugh from the Sophs.

"You were pretty wise," went on Dale. "The Sophs didn't love you then.
But they're going to--understand?"

Ken shook his head, too bewildered and mystified to reply.

"Well, now, here's Giraffe Boswick. Look what you did to him!"

Ken's glance followed the wave of Dale's hand and took in the tall,
bronze-haired sophomore who had led the chase that afternoon. Boswick
wore a huge discolored bruise over his left eye. It was hideous. Ken
was further sickened to recollect that Boswick was one of the varsity
pitchers. But the fellow was smiling amiably at Ken, as amiably as
one eye would permit. The plot thickened about Ken. He felt his legs
trembling under him.

"Boswick, you forgive Ward, don't you--now?" continued Dale, with
a smile.

"With all my heart!" exclaimed the pitcher. "To see him here would make
me forgive anything."

Coach Arthurs was ill at ease. He evidently knew students, and he did
not relish the mystery, the hidden meaning.

"Say, you wise guys make me sick," he called out, gruffly. "Here's a
kid that comes right among you. He's on the level, and more'n that,
he's game! Now, Cap, I fetched him here, and I won't stand for a whole
lot. Get up on your toes! Get it over!"

"Sit down Wor