rising in his cheeks. All during the game Tim had seemed to rasp him a
bit--not enough to spoil his work, but enough to keep him on edge.

He had thought, after last night's meeting, that there would be a big
change in Tim. Instead, it began to look as though Tim would continue to
be the same wild, heedless, quarrelsome lad he had always been.

"Today's tussle will give you confidence," said Ted in his ear. "You'll
be able to give them all a fight now."

Don flashed a smile, and then the smile was gone. So was the thrill of
his triumph. It was hard, this thinking you had weathered a storm and
then finding that you hadn't.

At supper Barbara and his father asked him about the game. He told of his
success, but with none of the flash and fire of a conqueror. Barbara
caught his glance and smiled at him understandingly.

"More trouble with Tim?" she asked.

"N--no; not exactly trouble. You see--" And then he related what had
happened last night, and the great hopes that had come, and how Tim had
acted today.

"Don," said Mr. Strong, "do you remember when you learned to pitch an
outcurve?"

"Yes, sir."

"You used to pitch to Alex Davidson out there in the yard. One day you