“Well, what do you think of your freshman phenoms?”

It was Johnny Everson who was speaking. Johnny besides being the regular second baseman of the Varsity was the chum of Hughie Jenkins, the manager of the team and his chief adviser with Captain Larke. Johnny knew the game from top to bottom and across the middle. They called him “a little bunch of brains and nerves,” and he deserved the compliment.

He was small in size, but large in brains and many a game had been won for the college by his quick work at trying moments, to say nothing of the fact that he was largely responsible for the discovery and development of many of the plays which had come to be known as “inside baseball.” He had an aggressive chin which seemed to be always pointing forward, and his eye was as quick and accurate as a sharpshooter’s.

“We seem to have a good many gaps to fill and I guess we will find mostly yaps to fill them with,” he went on; “anyway that’s the way I feel to-night after looking over the unpromising material that we put through the stunts at the cage to-day.”

“I don’t feel discouraged. You can never tell, of course, on one trial, but watching some of those youngsters this afternoon made me think that with a little training some of them will make good,” said Hughie.

“Let’s go over the list and mark the fixtures we can count on, and then we can tell what we have to do to get a real nine together,” said Everson.

“All right. At second we have you,” said Hughie, “and I guess we won’t need to worry about the Keystone bag, and at third we have Delvin, who I think, will develop this year into a great star at the near station. Captain Larke will handle left field all right as usual, Miner Black will come back stronger than ever this year in the box, and George Gibbs will, I think, do the catching all right. That’s just about half a team, isn’t it?”

“Now, at the first sack we need somebody to take Penny’s place, and I must confess that I did not notice any likely candidate, unless it was Dill.”

“We are going to have a hard time, I think, to find some one at short in place of our good friend Joe Brinker.”

“Did you notice the bowlegged and awkward-looking German named Hagner in the cage to-day?” broke in Everson. “If he wasn’t so big and awkward looking, he might be able to bat and we could play him in the outer gardens, but I hardly think he would ever make a shortstop.”

“I hardly think so either,” said Jenkins, “but I had a talk with him and he said he could play short. I have also had a report from Texas, where he came from, that he is a perfect terror at bat. I can hardly hope though that he will be able to fill Brinker’s place. I think if we could figure out some scheme to remodel his anatomy we might be able to make something out of him. Still he may be a diamond in the rough. I don’t think you can tell anything about any of them until you see them work in the open air for a week or two.”

“What do you think about right field?” asked Johnny.

“If I am not mistaken,” answered Hughie, “we have the real prize package in that young chap from Georgia, Robb (a regular cracker name, isn’t it)? Did you notice him at all? Did you ever see more speed? I am knocking on wood when I talk about him, because I don’t want to fool myself, but if I was a scout for a professional team, and saw this fellow Robb playing ball on some back lot, I think I’d buy him without instructions from headquarters.”

“Lots of them look like stars the first few days of spring,” said Johnny. “I noticed Robb particularly, too. I was thinking that while he is a clean-cut looking fellow, I’d hate to get into a fight with him, because he looks like a chap who has no fear of anything.”

“Besides Robb there were half a dozen others who looked like they might be made into fielders,” said Hughie. “There was Talkington, McKee, Raymur, Oakley, Lunley, and Flack. If any of them know how to swing a bat, I think we will be able to teach them what they need to know about catching flies.”

“As usual most of the candidates want to pitch and if Miner is all right this year we won’t need any one to help him, except, perhaps, a left-hander. Did you notice anything promising along this line? I was so busy looking over the fielders and possible first basemen that I didn’t pay much attention to the pitchers. I rather liked the delivery of Crossley the short time he was throwing. He looked promising for a rich man’s son.”

“Besides that will be easier when old man Young gets here and we get them out for coaching. You can also pick them out in batting practice. Just tell them to throw straight swift balls over the plate and you can pick out the poor ones anyhow, because a pitcher who can’t put a straight ball over nine times out of ten, isn’t worth developing. Then by the time Young gets a chance at them for a week we’ll know which are no good at all, and what ones it will pay him to coach.”

“I had a talk,” said Johnny, “with that California lad, Case. He is a quiet chap and unassuming. He says he is a southpaw pitcher too, and he may be what we are looking for.”

A few days after this talk in Hughie’s room the snow began to melt and within a week Lowell field, which had for months been covered with snow and ice, suddenly took on a greenish look, the ground became dry and firm and everyone began to feel the spring in the air. One day, not long after, there appeared upon the bulletin board the following notice:

There was joy in the hearts of the hundred, for there were about that number who hoped to be picked for the Varsity. Out of the hundred, at least ninety were certain to be disappointed as far as the Varsity was concerned, for there were only about ten places to fill, counting the substitutes.

Of course, there was a chance that a fellow would get on the second squad which might help him to the Varsity next year, and then there was always the freshman team which was formed last and which generally was an all pitcher team, so to speak, because every man on it had nursed secret hopes of making the Varsity his first year, as a pitcher.

Harold Case was out early. He had come to the field with Hagner and was now sitting on the steps of the clubhouse waiting for Hagner, who had become his good friend. It was a strange friendship that had sprung up between these two—the tall big-boned and awkward German lad, almost a man in looks, and this young and exceedingly graceful Western lad, and both were profiting by it.

While he was sitting there, what was left of last year’s champions trotted out on the field. Gibbs, second catcher last year, and Larke, old cronies; Black and Delvin; and last of all, of course, the inseparables, Everson and Jenkins. The rest of the candidates straggled out on to the field in twos and threes, to the number of fully a hundred, and presently Hagner came out with his old bat and glove in hand and Harold got up and they walked over to the diamond together.

“Better not let yourself out any to-day,” said Hagner, as they approached the others who had already paired off and were tossing balls back and forth to each other.

Before Harold had time to answer, however, Jenkins had said the same thing practically.

“Getting ready for a baseball season isn’t quite like developing a football team,” said Hughie. “In football you have to get the team in shape for one or two big games, each of them requiring a terrific outburst of energy, without thinking about the morrow, but in the case of a baseball nine you have to develop your bodies to withstand the strain of a long series of games, mostly in warm weather, and you must start slowly and get into condition gradually, so do not try to do it all to-day.

“Another thing, in football we train the team to withstand hard knocks, a sort of bull-dog development, while a baseball team must have the nice strength of a greyhound so as to enable it to keep going at top speed for a long time, and so I want you to go easy.”

So he had them stand in circles, making five or six groups, and pass around medicine balls, an exercise to strengthen the trunk muscles. Then they paired off again, and tossed the baseball to each other two by two—gently—just like boys playing catch.

All at once Hughie called out, “Come on, boys, around the field,” and starting off in front he trotted all the way round the field along the fence. By the time they got started on the second round a lot of the fellows were puffing and blowing hard and found it difficult to keep up, but Hughie knew how important it was for a ball player to have wind and he knew this kind of a stunt practiced a couple of times a day would fix them up in good shape by the time the games started.

Then he called them all up to the plate for batting practice, and asked if there was any fellow around who could pitch. He knew, of course, that Miner Black was there, but Miner knew enough not to say anything. What Hughie wanted was to find out what kind of control these new fellows who thought they could pitch had with a slow straight ball. Hughie and Coach Young, who had arrived, stood back of the plate with Everson and Larke watching.

Out of the dozen youngsters who said they would try he picked out Hackett and told him to go into the box.

“Now go ahead,” said Hughie. “Don’t use any curves and don’t try to burn them over; just give us some slow straight balls and try to get them across the plate.”

What he really was trying to do besides give the men batting practice was to get a line on the new pitching material, and this was the best way to get it.

Then he had the batters take turns at the plate, and each fellow was expected to stay there until he had made a hit, Hughie standing by showing each, especially the new ones, how to stand up to the ball and meet it fairly. Hackett, the first pitcher, didn’t seem to be able to get them anywhere near the plate, and so Hughie told the next one, Crossley, to go in and give it a trial. He was a little better, but they had finally to call on Miner to put a few over.

As usual, Miner was long on control. Johnny Everson stepped to the plate. Miner served one up and bing! The ball went scurrying out to right field. Each fellow took his turn at bat. Boys like Delvin, Larke and Gibbs—standing up like veterans and cracking the hits out in fine shape, giving a little more running practice to some of the youngsters who had been sent out to the field to chase the balls.

Finally it came Hagner’s turn. He stepped up to the plate and stood there rather slouchily and loosely, far away from the mark as if he were afraid of the ball.

“Better step up a little closer,” said Hughie, “he won’t hit you.”

“All right,” said Hagner, “I want to learn all about it.”

Miner served up one to him straight as an arrow. Hagner swung hard at it and missed. He felt a bit surprised himself. The next one he fouled off the bat near his hands. Just as Miner sent up the third ball Hagner stepped back from the plate, swung the bat easily, met it squarely and crack went the ball in a white streak clean over the center field fence!

Miner looked at him surprised and said, “You can’t do that again.”

The next time Hagner came up, Miner decided to use some curves and make him earn his hit. He sent up what looked like a fast straight ball about waist high. Hagner swung on it and missed. The ball had a terrific out curve and, of course, Hagner understood they were only to be straight. He eyed Miner closely and when he started to pitch Hagner stooped over to watch the ball like a hawk. On came the ball, starting wide of the plate and Hagner first decided it was a ball and then as the inshoot started in toward the plate, quick as a wink Hagner swung his bat and over the fence she went again.

The fellows went wild. Hughie and Everson standing back of the batting cage looked at each other. “What do you know about that?” asked Everson.

“I don’t know anything,” said Hughie. “For a big awkward fellow, he seems to be about the quickest thing I ever saw. Why! he didn’t even look ready to hit at that ball until it started to shoot in toward the plate, and I was sure he was going to let it go by. If he can bat like that regularly, we’ll play him some place if he fumbles every ball that is batted to him.”

Pretty soon Hughie asked, “Haven’t we got another left-hander here?”

“There ought to be,” said Everson, looking around. “Here, Case, get out there and show what you can do. This is your chance.”

“Thanks,” said Case in his polite way. “I’ll try if you want me to.” He walked into the box and picked up the ball where Miner had dropped it. He had not really tried to pitch since last summer and was a little nervous. The first ball went a little bit wide. The second one nearly hit the batter. The line of waiting batters grinned.

“Southpaws are either very good or very bad,” said Captain Larke to Delvin. After he had thrown a dozen balls or so, however, Case’s arm got in working order and only an occasional ball went wide of the plate.

“He seems to be pretty good on the straight ones,” said Jenkins. “If he can do as well when we let them begin to try the curves, I think we can put him on as a substitute.”

“What do you think of the bunch in general?” asked Everson.

“Well,” said Hughie, “I think I can see a team out of this crowd all right, though I am not quite sure of Dill at first base. This fellow Robb seems to be a fine batter and so does Talkington. Coach Young says there was one of the young pitchers that looked good, too—young Radams. If this Hagner knows as much about any position as he seems to about batting, I think I’ll let him choose his position. Think of trying to tell him how to stand up to the plate. He’s just a natural ball player. Don’t believe he knows himself how he hits them. Black told me, after he came out of the box, that he did his best to fool Hagner every time after that first time up, and you know how he succeeded. We’ll know more when we get them out on the diamond in the various positions.”

By this time the sun was sinking and it was too dark for further practice. Hagner and Case walked over to the clubhouse together.

“You sure made a hit with the crowd to-day, Hagner,” said Case.

“I made five hits with my bat,” said Hagner, “two of them over the fence.”

“Guess you will make the team all right,” remarked Case. “I heard Jenkins say, any fellow who can bat like that can take his pick of positions and play any one he likes.”

“Good. I’ll play shortstop if they give a choice.”

“Wish I had made as big a hit as you,” said Case.

“You did, because I heard Everson and Jenkins talking it over, too; and they said you had excellent control, and if you did well with the curves they could carry you with the team. If I were you, however, I’d learn to play some position, and make your way as a utility player. You see, left-handed pitchers are all right, but with a regular pitcher like this Miner Black here, you wouldn’t often get a chance to pitch more than an inning or two, anyhow.”

“I don’t know,” said Case, “how good this Miner Black is, but I think I can beat him to the regular pitching job.”

“All right,” said Hagner, “but if you don’t have any more luck at ousting him than most of the fellows have had hitting him, you’ll be out of a regular job on the team for a long time. I’d practice playing the first bag. Still think you’d make a first baseman.”

“I don’t think so,” said Case, as they entered the dressing room to change their clothes, “besides either Dill or Ross seems sure to land the job.”

The second week of out-door practice the regular work of the boys was increased. At batting practice every fellow was expected to run clear around the bases after he made his hit. The coaches and managers got a line on the base-running ability of the boys in this way. Hagner, Robb, Case and Talkington all showed up well in this direction.

Toward the end of the week the fellows were lined up on the diamond at their regular positions, the coaches trying out the various candidates for the fielding jobs. Hughie batted grounders to the infield, to each of them in turn.

After each play the ball was thrown from base to base in all of the different combinations necessary to all the imaginary situations, from short to first it went, from first to third, from third home, and from there to second, a white streak, the speed of the players increasing daily as the men got surer of their positions.

Others were batting flies to the outfield and the coaches were moving about watching the work of each man as he was tried in the different positions. Each of the fielders was given a variety of work, at bunting and the fielding of bunts, catching high infield flies, picking up sizzling grounders, etc. This work enabled Hughie to pick out his first line-up for the first and second squads.

By the middle of March the two squads were playing practice games among themselves.

The first squad generally lined up as follows:

The second squad was composed of a miscellaneous crew generally lined up as follows:

Harold Case was a sort of substitute pitcher for both squads. He would relieve Black for a while for the first squad and Radams for the other squad, so that both teams got plenty of practice in batting a left-hand pitcher. There was no way for him to find out in advance what Jenkins thought of him, but he had high hopes of making the team, and he felt absolutely confident that if he ever got a chance in one of the full regular games, he would be able to make good. Crossley also was given a good deal of work during these practice games, as he gave promise of doing well and it began to look as though the choice for left-hand pitchers would be between these two.