This training work was now along in the third week of the new winter term.

Three times weekly the squad had been assembled.  On other days of the week, the young men were pledged to outside running, when the roads permitted, and to certain indoor work at other times.

Every member of the big squad now began to feel “hard as nails.”  Slight defects in breathing had been corrected; lung-power had been developed, and backs that ached at first, from the work, had now grown too well seasoned to ache.  Every member of the squad was conscious of a new, growing muscular power.  Hard, bumpy muscles were not being cultivated.  The long, smooth, lithe and active “Indian” muscle, built more for endurance than for great strength, was the ideal of Coach Luce.

After the jogging came a halt for rest.  Luce now addressed them.

“Young gentlemen, I know, well enough, that, while all this work is good for you, you’re all of you anxious to see the production of the regular League ball on this floor.  Now, the baseball cage will not be put up for a few days yet.  However, this afternoon, for the rest of our tour, I’m going to produce the ball!”

A joyous “hurrah!” went up from the squad.  The ball was the real thing in their eyes.

Coach Luce turned away to one of the spacious cupboard lockers, returning with a ball, still in the sealed package, and a bat with well wrapped handle.

“I’ll handle the bat,” announced Mr. Luce, smiling.  “It’s just barely possible that I, can drive a good liner straighter than some of you, and put it nearer where I want it.  Until the cage is in place, I don’t like to risk smashing any of the gymnasium windows.  Now, which one of you pitchers is ambitious to do something?”

Naturally, all of them were.  Yet none liked to appear too forward or greedy, so silence followed.

“I’ll try you modest young men out on my own lines, then,” laughed the coach.  Calling to one of the juniors to stand behind him as catcher, Luce continued: 

“Darrin, as you’re a candidate for pitcher, show us some of the things you can do to fool a batsman.”

Dave took his post, his face a bit red.  He handled the ball for a few moments, rather nervously.

“Don’t get rattled, lad,” counseled the coach.  “Remember, this is just fun.  Bear in mind that you’re aiming to send the ball in to the catcher.  Don’t let the ball drive through a window by mistake.”

A laugh went up at this.  Dave, instead of losing his nerve, flashed back at the squad, then steadied himself.

“Now, then, let her drive—–­not too hard,” ordered Mr. Luce.

Dave let go with what he thought was an outcurve.  It didn’t fool the coach.  He deliberately struck the ball, sending it rolling along the floor as a grounder.

“A little more twist to the wrist, Darrin,” counseled the coach, after a scout from the squad had picked up the ball and sent it to this budding pitcher.