interruption. His lips set even a little firmer, however, as he turned and faced his trusty first baseman. Will Cheever, and in his train four other members of the club.
"It's true," said Ralph seriously, "just as it is sudden and sure. I've got to drop athletics as a sport, fellows—for a time, anyhow—and I've got to do it right away."
"You're dreaming!" scoffed Cheever, bustling up in his inimitable, push-ahead way, and pulling Ralph playfully about. "Resign? Huh! On the last test game—with the pennant almost ours? Gag him!"
"Why," drawled a tone of pathetic alarm, "it would be rank treachery, you know!"
"Hello, are you awake?" jeered Will, turning on the last speaker.
Ralph looked at him too, and through some wayward perversity of his nature his face grew more determined than ever. His eyes flashed quickly, and he regarded the speaker with disfavor, but he kept silence.
"You won't do it, you know!" blundered the newcomer, making his way forward. "It would queer the whole kit. What have we been working for? To get the bulge, and run the circuit. Why, I've just counted on it!"
Grif Farrington, for that was the speaker's
