ball when the Spring season opened," said George.
"So I do, but what has Hiram Shell got to do with it?"
"Lots, as you'll very soon learn," put in Teeter. "Hiram is the head of the ball club—the manager—I guess you forgot that, and he runs things. If he doesn't want a fellow to play—why, that fellow doesn't play—that's all. That's what George means."
"Yes," assented George. "And Hiram is sure down on you after what you did to him to-day, Joe."
The young pitcher stood still. Many thoughts came to him. He felt a strange sinking sensation, as if he had suddenly lost hope. He dwelt for a moment on his great ambition, to be the star pitcher on the school nine, as he had been on the nine at home.
"Well, I guess it's too late to worry about it now," remarked Joe after a bit. "I'm sorry—no; I'm not either!" he cried, with sudden energy. "I'd do the same thing over again if I had to, and if Hiram Shell wants to keep me off the nine he can do it!"
"That's the way to talk!" cried Teeter, clapping Joe on the back.
