Greg had signaled for what had once been one of his chum’s best—–­a modification of the “jump ball” that had cost this young pitcher much hard study and arm-strain.

As Dick stood ready to let go of the ball he seemed inclined to dawdle over it.  It wasn’t going to be one of his snappiest—–­any onlooker could judge that, at least, so it seemed.

Even Durville was fooled, though he did not let up much in the way of alertness.

Now the ball came on, with not much speed or steam behind it.  Durville took a good look, made some calculation for possible deception, then made his swing with the stick.

Slightly forward Durville had to bend, in order to get low enough to make the crack.

As his bat swished half lazily through the air, Durville “ducked” suddenly, for the upbounding ball had gone so close to his ear as to seem bent on removing some of the skin off that member.

Greg, who had been stooping, was up in time to mit the ball.  Then Durville, his face flushing, heard Holmes chuckle.

“One or two more, if you like, sir,” called Dick, facing the coach.  “But I think, sir, I’d better be in finer trim before I do too much tossing in one afternoon.”

“You’ve done enough, Prescott,” cried Lieutenant Lawrence, stepping forward and resting one hand cordially on Dick’s shoulder.

“Train with us for a fortnight, and you’ll take all the hide off of the Navy’s mascot goat.”

There was a laugh from the members of the squad who stood within hearing.  But, as Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes walked over to the side of the field they were greeted by a cheer from all who had watched their performance.

“I’m very glad you asked for a further trial for Prescott,” murmured Lieutenant Lawrence to the captain of the Army nine.

“I thought you would be, sir,” Durville replied.

“We have a line-up, after these two men have been trained into shape, that will make one of the strongest Army nines in a generation.”

“We’d have tanned the Navy last year, sir,” ventured Durville, “if we had known what material we had in Prescott and Holmes, and had been able to get them out.”

At cadet mess that evening the talk ran high with joy.  West Point was sure it had found its baseball gait!

CHAPTER XVII

READY FOR THE ARMY-NAVY GAME

In between times, in the strenuous hours that followed, Dick found the time, somehow, to write two letters of moment.

One was to his mother, the other to Laura Bentley.  In both he told how the last bar to his happiness in the Army had been removed.  Yet Dick did not go very deeply into details.  He merely explained that the class had discovered, on indisputable evidence, that he had been dealt with unjustly.  He made it plain, however, that he was now again in high favor with his class, and that he had even been honored by reelection to the class presidency.