"What's the matter?" asked Tom's chum, looking curiously at him.
"Nothing. Why?"
"You look as if you had been seeing ghosts."
"Well, I have—a sort of one," answered Tom with an uneasy laugh. "How'd you make out with the Latin?"
"Pretty punk, I guess. Bricktop says I've got to put in all my spare time boning. If I slump and can't play that last game, I'll—I'll"
"Don't you dare slump!" cried Tom earnestly. "We can't put a new man on first at this late day, Don't you dare slump, Sid."
"Oh, I'll try not to," and Sid dumped himself down in the easy chair and with an air of dogged determination began devouring Latin verbs.
The 'varsity had had its final practice against the scrub, with Tom in the box for the first team. He was beginning to take it as a matter of course and acquiring that which he needed most—confidence in himself. The scrub pitcher who had replaced him was good, but he was pretty well batted, while very few hits, and these only onebaggers, were secured off Tom.
"Boys," said Mr. Lighton two days before the game, "I think I can see our way clear to the Tonoka Lake League pennant. Now take it easy to-morrow, a little light exercise, be careful of what you eat, don't get nervous, go to bed early
