For Bonsell had looked with envy on Tom's big muscles.
"Well, I'm not going to give up until the last game," declared Tom stoutly. "Maybe I'll get a chance at the tail end. Langridge can't last forever, though far be it from me to wish him any bad luck."
"I see," spoke Bonsell with a laugh, "the survival of the fittest. I wish you luck, old man."
So Tom practiced and practiced and practiced until on the scrub his name became one to conjure with. But Langridge remained in his place on the 'varsity and Evert was the substitute pitcher. Between Tom and Langridge there was more than ever a coldness. It was not due to the sneaking act of the rich lad in not absolving Tom from blame in the wire episode, but might more properly be ascribed to the incident connected with Miss Tyler, though neither youth w r as willing to admit this. In spite of himself, Tom found that he was entertaining a certain indescribable feeling toward the girl. Often, at night, he would recall her laughing, tantalizing face as she walked away with Langridge.
"Hang it all!" Tom would exclaim to his pillow. "He's not fit for her! She ought to know it. I practically told her, yet she went off with him, after all. Confound it all, I can't understand girls, anyhow."
