id not occur to him that almost all of the players
around him were in the same boat. He could think of nothing but the
dashing away of his hopes. What was the use of trying? But he kept
trying, and the harder he tried the worse he played. At the bat he
struck out, fouled out, never hit the ball square at all. Graves got
two well-placed hits to right field. Then when Ken was in the field
Graves would come down the coaching line and talk to him in a voice no
one else could hear.

"You've got a swell chance to make this team, you have, _not!_ Third
base is my job, Freshie. Why, you tow-head, you couldn't play marbles.
You butter-finger, can't you stop anything? You can't even play sub on
this team. Remember, Ward, I said I'd get you for hitting me that day.
You hit me with a potato once, too. I'll chase you off this team."

For once Ken's spirit was so crushed and humbled that he could not say
a word to his rival. He even felt he deserved it all. When the practice
ended, and he was walking off the field with hanging head, trying to
bear up under the blow, he met Arthurs.

"Hello! Peg," said the coach, "I'm going your way."

Ken walked along feeling Arthurs' glance upon him, but he was ashamed
to raise his head.

"Peg, you were up in the air to-day--way off--you lost your nut."

He spoke kindly and put his hand on Ken's arm. Ken looked up to see
that the coach's face was pale and tired, with the characteristic
worried look more marked than usual.

"Yes, I was," replied Ken, impulsively. "I can play better than I did
to-day--but--Mr. Arthurs, I'm not in Graves's class as a third-baseman.
I know it."

Ken said it bravely, though there was a catch in his voice. The coach
looked closely at him.

"So you're sayin' a good word for Graves, pluggin' his game."

"I'd love to make the team, but old Wayne must have the best players
you can get."

"Peg, I said once you and me were goin' to get along. I said also that
college baseball is played with the heart. You lost your heart. So did
most of the kids. Well, it ain't no wonder. This's a tryin' time. I'm
playin' them against each other, and no fellow knows where he's at.
Now, I've seen all along that you weren't a natural infielder. I played
you at third to-day to get that idea out of your head. To-morrow I'll
try you in the outfield. You ain't no quitter, Peg."

Ken hurried to his room under the stress of a complete revulsion of
feeling. His liking for the coach began