“Say, have you seen the Lehighs?” demanded Furlong, as the chums joined the crowd at the gym.  “They’re big fellows.  They weigh a ton and a half to our ton.”

“Lightness and speed count for more than beef in this game,” smiled Prescott.

“Lehigh has sent some huskies, all right, and they look as if they’d give us a tough battle.”

In baseball and football West Point plays college teams.  The college men are generally older and much heavier.  Besides, the college men, not having the same intense grind at their institutions, are able to devote four or five times as much actual time to the work of training.

Despite these handicaps, the West Point team generally holds its own end up very well indeed.  The West Point men have one advantage; they are always in training, for which reason their bodily condition is always good.  It is in the finer points of the technique of the game that the United States military cadets suffer from less practice.

Maitland, of the second class, was captain of the team this year.  He was a much disturbed man when Dick and Greg reached the gym.

“What ails Maitland?” Dick asked Furlong.

“Haven’t you heard?  Kennedy is a great tosser, but he has his bad days when his wrist goes stale.  And Tatham, the sub., fought his way through a poor dinner, but then he had to give up and go to hospital.  He’s threatened with some kind of fever, we hear.  That leaves us without a sub. today.”

“Oh, does it?” thought Prescott.  With quick step and eager eye he sought Captain Maitland, who was also catcher for the nine.

“Mr. Maitland, I understand you’re without a satisfactory sub. pitcher for today?”

“Confound it, yes; we’re praying for the strength of Kennedy’s wrist.”

“You may remember that I tried for pitcher.”

“I know you did,” replied Maitland gloomily.  “But the coaches thought Kennedy and Tatham ahead of you.”

“If Kennedy should go bad today,” pressed Dick eagerly, “I trust you will be willing order me in from second to the box.  I know that I won’t disappoint you.  Ebbett and Dunstan are both good men at second.”

Captain Maitland looked thoughtful.

“I’m afraid, Prescott, if Kennedy does happen to go stale, we’ll have to call on you.”

“I won’t disappoint you, if you do, Captain!”

Then Maitland turned to regard Meacham, who was entering at that moment.

“What on earth ails you, Meacham?” demanded the worried captain of the nine.

“I was at a loot party last night,” confessed Meacham miserably.

“Overeating yourself—–­when you’re in training, man?”

“Honestly, Maitland, I didn’t believe the little that I put down was going to throw me.  There wasn’t a murmur until eleven this morning, and I felt sure that was going to work off.  But it won’t, and, oh, my!”

West Point’s shortstop put his hands over his belt line, looking comically miserable.  But to Captain Maitland there was no humor in the situation.