Chapter V: Part 5

"I don't know what to say to you," said Jack slowly. "You know how I feel, old fellow, and there isn't a chap in the school who would be so glad to have you take the place I know belongs to you as I would. I know Tim's to blame, but then you know how it was with Big Pond. He didn't go in with Tim and the 'Tangs,' and yet there hasn't been a fellow in school for years whom every one liked as they did Pond. Now I know him and I know you, and for the life of me I can't see just where the fault lies."

"Only you know they liked Pond and don't like me."

"It isn't as strong as that. It isn't that the fellows dislike you, Ward. That isn't it."

"It's that they don't like me," said Ward bitterly, determined to say the words which he perceived that Jack would not.

"I think it'll come out all right, Ward, if you'll have patience and wait. It isn't very pleasant, I know," he hastily added as he saw an expression of pain and mortification sweep over Ward's face, "but it'll all come right, I'm sure."

"And meanwhile I'm to sit still and bear it all like a martyr on a pole."

"No, not that--not that--but----"

"But what?"

"But I wish you'd take a little more pains to make the fellows like you."

"Don't you remember, though, what the doctor said about the fellows that tried to do the popular act, how they never succeeded and the school was always down on them?"

"Yes, I remember, and it's true too, but that doesn't mean that a fellow's not to take a little trouble to be agreeable--I mean to go out of his way. Forgive me, Ward. It hurts me worse than it does you, but you asked me the honest question and I'm trying hard, honestly I am, to see a way out of it. Now there's Big Smith. He's never in a scrape. He doesn't know what the word mischief means, but then he isn't over popular, you know."

"Yes, I know; but I hope I'm not like Big Smith. I suppose I'll have to take it out in being respected, even if I'm not liked."

"That's where you're wrong, Ward. I tell you a fellow's got to be respected or he's not liked. He's got to have something the other fellows don't have or they don't look up to him and don't care much for him, either. No, sir! I don't believe a fellow can be respected and not be liked. Speaking of that, and the doctor's words, don't you remember what he said about 'speaking the truth in love'? that it wasn't enough for a fellow to be true, and speak the truth too, for that matter, but that the way in which he did it counted for as much or more than what he said? I usually take a nap when the doctor gets to preaching, but I was thinking that morning and so kept awake."

"Thinking of me, maybe?" said Ward, looking keenly at Jack as he spoke.

"Why, yes, to tell the truth I was thinking of you, Ward; but I fancy I'd been in a good deal better business to have been thinking of myself."

"Jack, what would you advise me to do?"

"I told you, Ward, I don't know what to tell you. Still, if you want me to, I'll tell you one or two things I've thought of."

"Go ahead," said Ward, striving to appear calm, though there was a sinking of the heart as he spoke.

"Well, to begin with, old fellow, there isn't a boy in the class who can learn his lessons with as little work as you can. Why, you can see right through a thing that takes my old head an hour to find out. But, Ward," he added hesitatingly, "I've sometimes thought you were a little quick to poke fun at the fellows who are not so quick-witted as you are. And then you aren't over ready to give a fellow a lift when he's in trouble. Now, for example, there's Big Smith. I saw him come up to you before class yesterday and say, 'Ward, how do you translate this passage?' And maybe you remember what you said to him."

"No, I don't," replied Ward. "He's such a shirk I've no patience with him. What did I say, Jack?"

"Why you turned him off with a curt, 'How do I translate that place? Why, I translate it right,' and then you turned on your heel and walked off."

"But I don't want to drag Big Smith through by letting him hang on to my coat tails. I work to get what I have, and why shouldn't the other fellows work too, I'd like to know? Every tub ought to stand on its own bottom."

"That's all true enough, but it wouldn't cost you anything to give another fellow a lift; you can do it too, I know, for you've lifted me right out of the mire every time I asked you."

"Yes, but I like you, Jack."

"But I thought it was of the other fellows and the school you were talking just now."

"So I was, Jack," replied Ward slowly. Perhaps he was beginning to see what his friend had in mind. "But go on, give me another. I'm good for it."

"Well," said Jack hesitatingly, "I've thought about the nine, Ward. Henry and I were perfectly willing to keep off till they'd take you on, but you wouldn't have that."

"No, sir! I'd never go on the nine if I had to get on in that way."

"That's all right and I don't know that I blame you, though I think by a little squeezing Tim would have come around all right. But I did think you might have gone on the scrub."

"Go on the scrub!" said Ward quickly. "What? Go on the scrub when I'd been put off from the nine? Not much! Not as long as the court knows itself." And Ward rose from his seat and in his anger began to pace back and forth in the room.

"You don't see what I'm driving at. Now it looks to me like this. If you'd taken the thing good-naturedly and made out that you weren't hit so hard, I think the most of the fellows in the school would have taken your part in no time. As it is, you just keep away from them, and if Tim tells them that you've gone back on everything, why they don't know but it's true, you see. Now if you'd swallowed your pride and gone in with the fellows, whether you were on the nine or not, why it wouldn't have been any time before every one of them would be willing to swear that you were one of the best fellows in the school, as well as one of the best players, and Tim would be forced to give you back your place. Ripley has it now, but he doesn't size up to your knees, when it comes to playing ball."

"Yes, but think what Tim Pickard would say if he should see me on the scrub nine. He'd think he'd got me just where he wanted me, and that I was all cut up about being put off the nine, and was trying to force my way back again."

"Tim might be a little disagreeable at first; but you know if you braced up and either laughed at him or paid no attention to what he said, how soon he'd cool off. Now look here, Ward, how many times has your room been stacked since we had our little interview with Timothy down at Ma Perrins'?"

"Not once."

"Exactly. And if you meet Tim and the boys in the same way down on the ball ground you'd see how soon he'd crawl there. Oh, I know Tim Pickard all the way up and all the way down, from the top of his head to the sole of his foot."

"But, I don't want to get on the nine in any such way," protested Ward.

"Never mind the nine, just come down and go in with the fellows, that's all I'm telling you. You can't run off up to the glen or away off to the Hopper, and think all the school is going to come trailing after you. If you're going to catch fish, you've got to go where the fish are, haven't you? And if you think the fellows are all down on you, you can't fix things straight by going off and talking with the whispering breezes and echoing hills, and all that sort of stuff."

Ward soon departed and went to his own room. His heart was smarting from the effect of Jack's words, but somehow he could not feel angry with him. Who could? The light-hearted, generous lad made friends on every side, for no one could long withstand his sunny ways.

That night Ward sat for a long time at his study table, with his head resting upon his hands and his books unopened before him. He was thinking of Mr. Crane's words and what Jack had said.

At last he arrived at a quick decision, and with the decision once made he opened his books and resolutely began the preparation of his lessons for the following day.

*CHAPTER XIV*

*WARD HUMBLES HIMSELF*

For a long time after he had retired that night Ward rolled and tossed upon his bed, and it seemed to the troubled boy as if sleep would never come. The words of Jack kept sounding in his ears, and do what he would he could not forget them.

His heart was heavy too, with the consciousness that the words were true and that he knew he was in a measure at fault. Perhaps that after all was the source of his deepest suffering, for Ward Hill was one of the few boys who could not entirely deceive himself.

Again and again he tried to persuade himself that his present suffering all came because he had broken with his former associates in the school. That a measure of truth lay in that fact he could readily persuade himself to believe, but not all of it could be traced to that source. Jack's references to his unwillingness to aid the other boys and his tendency to have but slight sympathy for those who did not learn as easily as he, had touched him in a tender spot and his own conscience accused him.

Then too, he knew that he had withdrawn from the fellowship of many in the school, and had been accustomed to pride himself somewhat upon that very fact. He was not dependent upon any one. If the fellows did not care for him, why, he did not intend to hang his harp on the willows and sit down and mourn over his slights. He would show every one in the school that he could live without his company if needs be. With such statements he had endeavored to bolster up his courage and by an air of bravado, if not of true independence, he would show his own superiority. No one should ever hear him "whine."

Yet, despite his efforts, his heart had been heavy all the time. He yearned for the love and good will of his companions. No one in the school more desired to be popular than he. And few too would suffer from the lack of popularity as he did.

And his heart had been heavy when he at last had closed his books when the bell was rung that night and he had put out his light and crept into his bed. He was tormented by a dull, heavy feeling of misery. He felt lonely and forlorn. Both Mr. Crane and Jack had virtually admitted that he was not very well liked by the school, and both also evidently thought he was not entirely blameless in the matter.

As the truth gradually came to be seen by him, he was sincere enough to acknowledge it to be true and had sufficient strength to rouse himself to face its difficulties. He would follow Jack's suggestions.

On the following morning he said to Jack as they left the chapel together: "I'm going to follow your advice, and am coming down to play on the scrub against the nine this afternoon. The only thing I'm afraid of is that Tim Pickard will think I'm crawling. You know I'm not trying to get back my place on the team."

"That's all right, Ward," replied Jack enthusiastically. "Never you mind Tim, you just go ahead. It'll be all right and I'll see that you have a place on the scrub."

As a consequence of Jack's efforts, when in the afternoon Ward went down to the ball ground, Ford, who was acting as the captain of the scrub nine, which was formed to give the regular nine practice every day, said to him, "Ward, will you take a hand with us this afternoon?"

"Yes," replied Ward quietly.

"All right; play 'short' then, will you?"

As Ward threw aside his coat and walked out upon the field to take the position assigned him, he was conscious that many of the boys who had assembled to watch the nine at its practice were talking of him. His face burned, but he tried hard not to appear aware of the curiosity which his appearance on the field had aroused. The sneer on Tim Pickard's face was the hardest for him to bear; and when he overheard the words which Tim uttered, evidently intended for Ward's special benefit, about "sneaks" and "trying to curry favor and crawl back on the team," he was sorely tempted to leave the field instantly.

But catching a meaning look just then from Jack, he resolutely ignored all that he had heard and seen, and well aware that Tim would be highly delighted even then to have him abandon the game, he tried hard to give his entire attention to the work before him.

It was the first game in which Ward had played since he had come back to Weston and he felt sadly his lack of practice. But endeavoring to make up by his efforts what he lacked in practice, he succeeded beyond his hopes in acquitting himself creditably. He handled the ball quickly and threw with all his old-time swiftness.

Indeed, he thought more than once of that long throw of his in the game with the Burrs in the preceding year, which had saved the game and won for him the wild applause of his fellows. The recollection served to intensify the difficulties of his present position. How sadly had it all been changed since the preceding year! He was, however, too busy in the game to dwell long upon the misery which the thought produced.

When it came to be his turn to bat and he stood facing Tim, who was the pitcher of the Weston nine, he could easily perceive the expression of hatred upon his face. Tim exerted himself to the utmost and sent in the ball with all the speed and curves he could summon. Perhaps his manifest desire to place Ward at a disadvantage served to rouse the latter all the more. At any rate he stood calmly facing Tim, apparently unmoved by all his efforts to annoy him.

It became evident to others as well as to Ward that Tim in his anger was trying to hit him with the ball. He sent in two or three at his swiftest speed and Ward had all he could do to dodge them successfully.

"Oh, hold on, Tim!" called Jack in a low voice from his position at short stop. "What are you trying to do? You want to remember that we're not alone here."

Somehow Jack always seemed to have a strange influence over the captain of the nine, an influence which no other exerted, or even tried to use. And the effect of the words became at once apparent as Tim's speed slackened and the next ball came in directly over the plate.

Just then Ward obtained a glimpse of Mr. Crane, who had come upon the grounds and taken his position in the front line of the spectators, where he stood watching the game. Perhaps the sight of the teacher, or Jack's words, or the change which came over Tim, served to arouse Ward still more. He never knew just what the cause was; but as he saw the ball coming swiftly toward him, he caught it squarely on the end of his bat and sent it far out over the heads of the waiting fielders.

As Ward swiftly cleared the bases, sending in two men before him, he was dimly conscious that a faint cheer had arisen from the spectators. He gave no heed to that, however, nor yet to the words with which Jack hailed him as he ran swiftly past him. Somehow the heavy hit which he had made served in a measure to relieve his feelings, and as he halted upon the third base he wiped his dripping face with his handkerchief and for the first time turned and looked about him.

Jack's face was beaming and Ward could easily see he had risen in the estimation of the spectators. The sight produced a thrill of pleasure in his heart, but he was soon recalled to the necessities of the game and gave himself fully to that. When at last he succeeded in stealing home, the applause again broke out, but Ward held himself aloof from the boys, well satisfied with what he had done.

Twice more during the game Ward succeeded in hitting squarely the swiftly thrown balls of the pitcher, and when at last the game was ended, the scrub nine for the first time that season had succeeded in making a creditable showing against the school nine, and Ward knew the success in large measure had been due to his efforts.

"Tell you what, Tim," said Jack, as the members of the nine picked up their bats and started for their rooms, "we'll have to put up the scrub against the Burrs, I'm thinking. If we don't look out they'll be playing all around us."

Tim made no reply, but a savage scowl crept over his face. He prided himself upon his prowess as a pitcher, and indeed it was freely acknowledged that there was no one in the school in any way to be compared with him. Indeed, it was this fact that chiefly enabled Tim to retain his position as the captain of the nine, for the boys well knew that without him they would be so sadly crippled as to be unable to make a good showing against any team.

The fact that Ward Hill, whom he disliked so intensely, had succeeded in successfully batting him that day was gall to the angry boy. He made no reply to Jack's words, and sullenly departed from the field.

Ward did not wait for any of his friends to accompany him as he too started from the ball ground. Jack's beaming face pleased him greatly, and the words that he overheard some of the boys say about it's being "a shame that Hill was not on the nine," seemed also to comfort him; but without waiting to speak to any one he drew on his coat and started to go.

As he came to the border of the grounds he was surprised as Mr. Crane joined him and said: "You've done well to-day, Hill, and I congratulate you."

"Thank you," said Ward simply, though his face flushed with pleasure at the words.

"You haven't been over to see me yet," continued Mr. Crane. "Can't you come up to my room for a few minutes now?"

"I'm hardly fit for that," said Ward, glancing ruefully at his soiled hands. He knew also that his hair was in disorder and that his face bore many tokens of his recent exertions.

"I understand all that," said Mr. Crane quietly. "If you can spare a few minutes now I should be very glad to have you come. You bear only the honorable signs of battle, and I shall forget them. I want only a few minutes with you."

"I'll come," said Ward simply, as he turned and walked with the teacher, and was soon seated in his room.

"Now, Hill," said Mr. Crane as soon as he too had taken his seat, "I don't want you to think that I'm asking more than I ought, and if you feel that I am you are at liberty not to answer me. But I should be glad to have you tell me why you went down to the ball ground this afternoon and played on the scrub nine. You haven't done that before, have you?"

"No," said Ward quietly.

He was silent a moment, and then, as he looked up, he felt rather than saw that Mr. Crane was regarding him intently. His interest was so apparent that almost before he realized what he was doing Ward had related all his recent troubles to him. He did not mention any names, but he told him of his own feelings when he had listened to his words of the previous interview; also of what "a friend"--for so he referred to Jack--had said to him in the same line. He held nothing back. His own bitterness, his feeling that he had been misunderstood, his discouragement and all came out.

"Hill," said Mr. Crane when Ward at last ended, "I'm greatly pleased with you. You haven't done anything since you came to Weston that has given me such genuine pleasure as that which you have done to-day."

"Why, Mr. Crane," said Ward quickly, his face flushing as he spoke and a very suspicious moisture appearing in his eyes, "I didn't know you cared so much about the game. I thought you would be more pleased over my work in the classes."

"I am pleased with both, Hill. I am delighted at the improvement in your class work, and I am no less pleased over what I have seen to-day."

As Ward appeared somewhat mystified and looked questioningly at him, Mr. Crane continued, "The class work is important. You know I would be the last to belittle that. But there are many other things to be learned in a school like this. I have been here many years now, and I have had an opportunity to judge of the relative success of the boys as they have gone up to college and out into life, and I must say that many of my old standards of judgment have been revised."

"And you don't think that standing high in the class is first then?" said Ward eagerly.

"Yes, with you I do, Hill; but first, not all. I want to see every boy do his best, his particular rank in class then becomes a secondary matter. There are some boys who are older when they enter, or much more mature when they are of the same age as their fellows, and of course they do the work more easily and gain a higher standing without much effort. But some students show elements of growth and promise, and although they may not stand so high as some of the others, I can see by the very impetus they receive from working faithfully that they are bound to outstrip the others in the race of life. Then too, school work only tests a man on one side of his mental make-up. His memory may be strong and he may also be able to perceive and receive, but his ability to create or to carry out plans is not tested in the least, or to a very slight degree. So when he gets out into the world and finds that the world is much more prone to ask of him what he can furnish or add to the stock it already has, or what he can do in carrying out his plans, than it is to ask him about his ability to soak in as a sponge does, he doesn't know just what to make of it. Creative ability and executive ability are but slightly tested in school life, and these are the qualities of success far more than mere receptive power. I don't know that I make myself clear, using these long words," added Mr. Crane smilingly.

"I think I understand you," said Ward slowly; "but I'd never thought of it in that way before. I always thought if a fellow did well in school he'd be likely to outside."

"And so he will," said Mr. Crane quickly. "You see I didn't make myself clear after all. I think success in the main is in him, not in his surroundings, and if he has ability and exerts it in school it will tell there as well as in any other place. If a boy has ability and applies himself he will succeed in school if success is in him. But on the other hand, because a boy has the special kind of ability to succeed in school work it does not always follow that the same qualities will make his life-work a success. And that is the very reason why I am always glad to see a boy tested and meet the test on every side of his life, even while he is in school."

"And you think I have been tested?"

"Yes; and I think you are meeting the tests. School life and school work are two different things. I want not less of one but more of the other. The discipline of hard study is what you need, Hill; and you need also the discipline which only the boys can give you. No teacher can give it, however much he may try. It's life, not books. Now no discipline for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous. Nevertheless, afterward----"

"Yes, yes, I see," said Ward quickly. "And you think I am learning? Tell me honestly just what you think, Mr. Crane."

"I think you are learning and are doing well in the school life as well as in the school work," replied Mr. Crane cordially, as he rose from his chair, a signal which Ward at once understood.

*CHAPTER XV*

*OUTSIDE LESSONS*

"Now, Hill," said Mr. Crane, as Ward stopped for a moment in the doorway, "I trust I have not said too much to you."

The teacher's kindly tones and grave manner impressed Ward even more than what he had been saying, and with a face that beamed in spite of the marks which the dust of the ball-ground had left, the boy, far more light-hearted than he had been for many weeks now, said: "You have done me lots of good, Mr. Crane."

"Let us hope that it will prove to be so. I rejoice with you that the muskets of Lexington have been heard, now let us see to it that the guns of Yorktown shall also be heard. Or to put it in another way, the victory of a Bull Run does not always mean that the same parties are in similar conditions at Appomattox. The declaration of independence did not of itself make the colonies free. They had to prove their right and ability to be free; but still the declaration had to come first. You have fought at Lexington, and have declared your independence, and I think too you have had your Trenton and Princeton. Now if Valley Forge and Benedict Arnold come along why you will not forget what followed them. But I don't mean to stand here and croak of possible ills. I am confident now, Hill, that you are beginning to be master of yourself, and that is what the discipline and training of a school course and school life are for. Come and see me again soon, Hill. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mr. Crane," said Ward; and then he started directly across the campus toward his room to prepare for supper.

Somehow he was feeling strangely elated. He could not see that there had been any radical change in himself or in his relations with his fellows, but the trial of the afternoon on the ball-ground had been passed, and he had played a game which certainly must have proven to all that whether he was on the nine or not, there was no one in the school who could do better.

And he could not fail to see too the change which already had become manifest in the feelings of many of the boys toward him. The surprise with which they had first observed him when he went out on the field, the sneers of Tim Pickard, reflected in a measure by some of his boon companions, the remarks which his appearance had called forth, had all soon changed, that is, all save Tim's malice, which had given place to an expression of intense and bitter hatred.

Still Ward thought he could endure that. His vigorous body was still tingling from the effects of his exercise, and the words of Mr. Crane were still sounding in his ears. Added to all that was the evident pleasure of the spectators which his ability as a player had aroused, and the cordial encouragement of the one teacher in the school whom he most respected and loved. Ward was beginning to feel as if life were not such a heavy burden after all.

"Well, Ward, that was a great game you put up this afternoon," said Henry, as his room-mate entered the room. "The way in which you batted Tim almost broke him up."

"Did it?" said Ward lightly, as he at once began to wash.

"It did that, and it tickled the rest of us, or rather some of us, mightily too. Tim will soon have to give you back your place on the nine."

"No, he'll not do that," replied Ward quickly. "Tim's got enough of the nine under his thumb to have his say, and I know he'd rather leave than have me on the team."

"But surely, Ward, after to-day's work you'll not object to Jack's proposal?"

"Jack's proposal? I don't know just what you mean."

"Why, that he and I should tell Tim that he must take you back or we'd leave the nine."

"No. I never should agree to that," replied Ward quietly. "I'd never want to get on the nine in that way. I'd stay off forever before I'd do that. Not that I don't thank you," he hastily added, as he saw an expression of genuine disappointment creeping over his room-mate's face. "It's mighty good of you and Jack, and I'll never forget it, either. But, you see, even if I were willing to go on in that way, Tim still has the most of the nine, and I think the most of the school too, on his side, and I think it would break up the team. And with the game coming on with the Burrs so soon now, that would never do, you see."

"Still, I wish you were on the nine, Ward," said Henry. "I want you, and the nine needs you."

"Oh, well," replied Ward, speaking far more lightly than he felt, "it'll all come out right in the end. Jordan's a hard road to travel, but I've got to take things as they come."

"You're doing great work in the classes, anyway, Ward. Dr. Gray told me the other night that your reports were great so far in the term."

"Did he say that?" said Ward eagerly, his hunger for praise returning in an instant.

"Yes, that's just what he said."

"Well, that's enough without making the nine."

Ward's prophecy proved to be correct. Unknown to him Henry and Jack went and had a talk with Tim Pickard, but the captain of the nine utterly refused to listen to any plea in Ward's behalf. He threatened, if they persisted in pressing his claims, to throw up his own position and take with him the four members of the team whom he controlled, and with the aid of whose votes he was always able to have his own way, as with his own vote they made a majority.

Neither of the boys informed Ward of their efforts on his behalf, fearing that the failure might serve to dampen the returning ardor which he now displayed.

And Ward longed to be on the nine too. Conscious of his own ability as a player, and eager as he was for the excitement of the games and the applause of his fellows, it was no slight disappointment to feel that he was shut off from it all, and that he was powerless to change the conditions that surrounded him.

He did not go down to the grounds every day, for that seemed to him too much as if he were pushing for his former place on the nine. Still, he went there frequently and willingly taking any position assigned him on the scrub team, threw himself into the game with all his heart.

Meanwhile he did not neglect his lessons. Come what might, he was resolved to do well in them. As the days passed his own pleasure increased as he saw that no one in the class was doing better than he. Berry thus far was his most dangerous competitor, for "Luscious" was a bright fellow and not one to shirk his work. His influence on Jack too, was becoming apparent, and Jack's class work was far better than any he had ever done in the course of his three years at Weston.

Jack seemed to rejoice in his own success too, and made many sly references to the honors he was hoping to win. Indeed, he was accustomed now to refer to himself and Ward and Luscious when the three by chance were together as the "three valedics."

"And the greater of the three--ah, that's a secret. That's to be revealed in the forthcoming chapters, as the books say," he would laughingly add.

Another change also became manifest in Ward. There was no more surprised boy in all the Weston school than Big Smith, when one morning on his way to the Latin room Ward overtook him and walked on by his side.

"Got your lesson, Smith?" said Ward.

"No, not all of it. I fear I'm like the men that toiled all night and took nothing. I've been studying hours and hours on one passage here, but somehow I can't get it."

"Which is it?" said Ward cordially. "Perhaps I can give you a lift."

"If you only would, Ward," said Big Smith eagerly, as he opened the book at the difficult passage.

Ward translated the passage, and when he had finished, Big Smith said: "I don't understand how it is, Ward, that you can do these things and I can't. My brain is larger than yours," and Big Smith removed his hat and thoughtfully stroked his hair as he spoke. "Now I've always heard that the size of a man's head was the measure of his ability, and I know my hat is two sizes larger than yours, Ward. And yet you could read that place and I couldn't," he added ruefully. "How do you account for it, Ward?"

"Quality, not quantity," said Ward with a laugh, who was light-hearted in the consciousness of having helped another, a comparatively new experience for him.

The consequences of that act made Ward afterward somewhat dubious as to the real benefits he had bestowed on his classmate. Almost every evening Big Smith obtained permission from Mr. Blake to go up to Ward's room, and for a long time he would remain there and listen to Ward as he translated the difficult passages for him.

At last his presence during the study hour became a burden. "Big Smith is an unmitigated nuisance," Henry declared. The boys posted great notices on their door which bore such alarming headlines as "Smallpox within," "This is my busy day," "No one admitted except on business," "Danger," and other similar mild and suggestive devices. But Big Smith calmly ignored them all, and every night when the study hour was about half done would appear, and with his unmoved and benign countenance ask for the aid which Ward never refused him now.

At last Henry declared it could be borne no longer, and as Ward knew how hard the work was for his chum and how Big Smith's interruptions confused him, he uttered no protest when Henry boldly told the intruder one night that if he wanted help he must come for it out of study hours.

"But I don't ask you for help, Henry," replied Big Smith in apparent surprise.

"I know that; but you're imposing on Ward's good nature, and I can't study when you two fellows are talking. Besides, I don't think it's the square thing for you to take Ward's work into class as your own."

"But I don't," protested Big Smith warmly. "I never in my life took his work into class."

"Why don't you get a pony, Big Smith? That would be the easiest way out of it."

"Me get a pony? Do you think I'd use a translation? Not much. I'm thankful for one thing, and that is, I never have used a pony, as you call it, yet."

"What do you call it when you come up here and get Ward to read your Latin and Greek to you, I'd like to know."

"That? Oh, that's not a pony. That's just Ward Hill."

Both his hearers laughed in spite of their efforts to restrain themselves, Big Smith meanwhile looking from one to the other as if he were not quite able to see the joke.

"No, Big Smith," said Henry at last, "I don't want to be small or mean, but I have to work hard for all I get, and when you come up here in study hours you just break me all up. I don't mind it any other time; but it doesn't seem to me just the square thing to break in on another fellow's time. I wouldn't do it; it doesn't seem to me that Mr. Blake ought to let you do it, either. What are the study hours for?"

"I'm sure I don't want to come here if I'm not wanted," replied Big Smith soberly.

"That's not it; that's not it at all," protested Henry. "It's only for a quiet study hour I'm arguing. I don't think you ought to break in on another fellow's work. Now, do you?"

"But," said Big Smith in his most solemn tones, "all my teachers say I've been doing a great deal better work of late. I'm sure you wouldn't want me to drop back in my work or stand lower in the class, would you?"

With a hopeless sigh Henry turned again to his work. It seemed as if it were almost impossible to impress the conception of the needs of any one else on Big Smith's mind.

Ward, however, finally adjusted matters to the satisfaction of both by promising his aid to Big Smith after breakfast each morning, in the hour between breakfast time and chapel. In his new desire to follow out Jack's suggestion and make himself familiar and helpful to his companions, he never once thought of the harm he might be doing Big Smith. Indeed he went much further, and soon a number of the boys in the class joined Big Smith each morning and listened to Ward as he read aloud the lessons of the day.

And Ward was thinking only of the aid he was giving, not at all of the harm the others might receive. But then we are told in many ways outside the realm of physics that the reaction is always equal to the action. Perhaps Ward Hill, however, was yet to learn that lesson--a lesson which certainly each must learn for himself and not for another.

Meanwhile, through all these days Ward's room not been touched. Whoever had done the "stacking" had now, at least for a time, ceased from his labors. That there was still a very bitter feeling against him on the part of many he well knew, nor could he attribute it all to the immediate circle of the "Tangs."

Ward felt the prejudice keenly, but he resolutely held himself to his work, and by the aid he gave the boys in their lessons and by mingling with them more than he had done of late, he was hoping to win his way back to the position he had once held in the school.

Nor was this born of a weak desire for popularity alone. That was true in part, but only in part; but Ward Hill, as we have said, was one of those few persons who cannot deceive themselves.

And he had realized the truthfulness of Jack's and Mr. Crane's words, and was now resolutely trying to set himself right. While he longed for and keenly enjoyed the praise and good-will of his fellows, still unless he felt in his heart that they were true and deserved he did not feel thoroughly happy in receiving them. So perhaps a dual motive was at work at this time on Ward's heart--the eager longing for the praise of the school and the equally strong desire to feel that it was true and merited. Let us not blame him too harshly. Purely good motives are sadly lacking in this world of ours. And then, even a gold coin contains some alloy, but the most of us are not inclined to reject the use which can be made of it because of the baser metal it contains.

Little Pond was now doing nobly. He looked up to Ward with unbounded confidence. Ward more than once found himself wondering whether he had ever looked up to a senior in that way. Still he rejoiced in the little fellow's success and felt strongly drawn to him, although he knew in his heart that his days of trial were not all past.

And now the approaching game with the Burrs became the absorbing topic of the school. The nine was working vigorously and Ward went down more frequently to play on the team which was to give them their daily practice.

No one knew how heavy his heart was and with what unutterable longing he desired his place on the team. Still he held himself resolutely to the line he had marked out. He studied faithfully, tried to make himself friendly with the boys, and apparently threw himself heartily into the task of giving the nine the practice they sadly needed. And no one heard him complain, and not even to Jack did he mention his desire for his former position, a position now filled by Ripley. And yet somehow he had the feeling that Jack understood, although neither made any reference to it now.

So matters stood on the day before the great game. The final preparations had been completed, the last practice of the nine had occurred, and throughout the school there was the strong though subdued excitement which always preceded the great game.

But Ward Hill, with a heavy heart and a kind of dull misery, looked forward to the morrow.

*CHAPTER XVI*

*THE BEGINNING OF THE GREAT GAME*

The following morning dawned clear and bright, and many a boy in the Weston school gave a sigh of relief when first he looked from his windows. The rugged hills, now covered with the highly tinted autumn foliage, displayed patches of clouds resting on their summits or creeping far up along the wooded slopes. The sun, however, would soon burn away all such slight affairs as these gray-colored floating clouds or stretches of fog, and the boys were rejoicing.

The games with the Burrs were the great events of the school year. Not only were the schools themselves of equally high standing, and in a sense rivals, but the advantage for a few years now in the ball games had been with the Burrs, and the Weston boys consequently were especially eager to win this time. As the game was to be played upon their own grounds they had a slight advantage, but all were somewhat nervous and the excitement ran correspondingly high.

There were to be recitations in the morning only. It was almost impossible for the eager lads to hold themselves to their work, but the teachers were somewhat lenient with them, and some of the ludicrous mistakes were passed over with a smile.

Indeed, it was whispered that the teachers themselves were not far behind the boys in sharing the excitement which pervaded the school, and were as desirous that the nine should win as were the players themselves.

Soon after noon autos could be seen coming along the pretty valley roads or making their way over the hillsides. But whether from hill or valley made no difference, for there was one destination for them all and that was the ball ground. Old and young, men and women, boys and girls were there, and the assembled crowd gave promise of being unusually large.

The great busses filled with the boys and girls from the neighboring school began to put in an appearance, for the rival school was co-educational in its methods, and the girls were apparently as eager and excited as their brothers. Long streamers and banners floated out from behind the well-filled machines and many of the girls were waving flags or long ribbons of the school colors, handily adjusted to a cane or some similar device.

A crowd of the Weston boys was waiting in front of the chapel for the Burr nine to come, for it was known that they were to have a special auto.

Some of the members of the Weston nine, clad in their bright new uniforms, mingled with the crowd and as a committee were waiting to welcome and conduct the visiting nine to the dressing rooms. Their efforts to appear calm and unmindful of the attention they attracted provoked a smile from some of the waiting boys, but no one begrudged them the honors which were theirs, and as they joined in the shouts and laughter which continually arose, or stopped to converse about the prospects of the nine in the coming game, the interest steadily increased.

"There they are! There they come!" suddenly some one in the crowd shouted, and in a moment the sound of the horn carried by the Burrs could be heard in the distance. In a brief time the huge auto drew up before the crowd and the Burr nine leaped nimbly out upon the ground.

"Hello, Shackford," said Tim Pickard advancing and grasping the outstretched hand of the rival captain. "Glad to see you. If we have as big a game as we have crowd, there will be something to see before night comes."

Tim proceeded to shake hands with each member of the team and then at once started with them to lead the way to the rooms which had been assigned to the visitors.

The waiting crowd parted and stood watching with undisguised curiosity the opposing nine as they filed past them following Tim. Certainly they were a sturdy lot, and the low murmurs which could be heard among the Weston boys as the others withdrew were not entirely those of confidence in the success of their own team.

Meanwhile Ward Hill had gone down to the ball ground and lay on the grass in the rear of the field in a place from which he could easily follow the progress of the game.

Beside him were Henry and Jack, both in uniforms, the latter sitting erect and occasionally pounding the ground before him with the bat he was holding in his hands. Not one of the trio was happy, and Ward least so of the three, although he was striving manfully to appear unmindful of the excitement which, though subdued, was still apparent on all sides of them.

"It's tough, Ward," said Jack; "I want to win this game, but I never went into one with such a mean feeling as I've got now. It's a shame you're not to play. It's worse than a shame. The nine needs you and I know how you feel, old fellow. Say, Ward," he added, suddenly leaping to his feet, "if you'll say the word, we'll fix Tim yet. Henry and I can go to him and declare that if he won't take you on, we're off. And he'll have to give in now, with the crowd all here and everything ready to begin."

"Yes, Ward, that's what we'll do," chimed in Henry. "It can be done now."

"No, fellows," said Ward shaking his head. "I told you I couldn't go on in that way; and then too, I'm not in practice, you know."

"Bother the practice! You'll do better without it than most of us can with it. Here they come, Ward! Say the word and the deed's done."

But Ward still shook his head. He could not bring himself to do what Jack asked. And yet how he did long to be in the game!

The appearance of the nines upon the field was greeted by a shout and the school cheers were almost deafening on every side. The banners and flags were waving, the girls were standing erect in the autos, and the entire scene was stirring and exhilarating in the highest degree. "Good luck to you, fellows," said Ward as Jack and Henry started to go and join their comrades.

Neither of them replied save by the look which they gave him and soon were with the nine.

The ground was cleared now, and the allotted time of preliminary practice for each team was given. As Ward watched the boys it almost seemed to him that he could not endure the sight. Only a year before and he had been one of the team. Even now he could feel again the thrill which he had when at the close of that famous game his mates had borne him from the field on their shoulders. But now no one seemed to care whether he played or not. And all the time there was the consciousness in his own heart that there was not a better player than he in all the Weston school.

Summoning all his resolution he left his place and took a position near the end of the long line of Weston boys who were standing well back on one side of the ground. He had seen Big Smith and Pond there, and even their company was comforting to him now.

"Hello, Ward," was Big Smith's hail as Ward approached; "I should think you would wish you were on the nine now. Do you know, I almost feel as if I could play well enough myself to take a position."

Ward made no response, though Big Smith little realized how his words had stung the troubled boy. The Weston nine had taken their positions in the field and the game was about to begin.

Ward glanced out toward left field, his old position, and his heart was bitter toward Ripley, who now was playing there. Ward knew he could fill the place much better than Ripley ever could. Indeed, his heart was so bitter that he was almost divided in his feelings between his desire for the Weston boys to win, and that Ripley and Tim should not put up a good game.

But everything was in readiness now and the hush which came over the assembly betrayed the suppressed excitement. Shackford grasped his bat and advanced to the plate, the umpire tossed the ball to Tim and gave the word, and the game with the Burrs was begun.

Tim settled himself into his position, drew back his arm and sent the ball in with all the speed he could put forth. Shackford for two years had been captain of the Burr nine and his prowess was well known. There was no one the Weston boys feared as they did him.

Shackford was ready, and the very first ball Tim sent in he caught fairly on the end of the bat and sent far down the field close to the foul flag.

A shout of delight arose from all the friends of the Burrs as the runner started swiftly toward the first base.

"Foul, foul ball!" called the umpire and Shackford stopped suddenly on his way to the second base.

A murmur of disapproval arose from the crowd, and Ward, who was standing not very far from the place where the ball had struck, shook his head. To him the ball had seemed fair, but he said nothing and admired the spirit of Shackford as he raised his hand toward his supporters, betokening his desire for no manifestations of the kind which had just been heard, and went slowly back to the home-plate and once more picking up his bat stood facing the pitcher.

"One strike!" called the umpire as Tim sent the ball swiftly in.

"Two strikes!" he called again as the second ball went whistling past.

A low murmur could be heard as the excitement of the watching crowd increased. Shackford was ready and stood grimly waiting for Tim's next move. "One ball" and "two balls" followed and the strain on all was becoming more intense.