Not that Billy Gaston was afraid. The thrill of excitement burned along
his veins and filled him with a fine elation whenever he thought of the
great adventure, and he gave his pocket a protective slap where the
"ten bones" still reposed intact. He felt well pleased with himself to
have made sure of those. Whatever happened he had that, and if the man
wasn't on the square Pat deserved to lose that much. Not that Billy
Gaston meant to turn "yellow" after promising, but there was no telling
whether the rest of the twenty-five would be forthcoming or not. He
fell to calculating its worth in terms of new sweaters and baseball
bats. If worst came to worst he could threaten to expose Pat and his
scheme.

During the first and second innings these reflections soothed his soul
and made him sit immovable with jaws grinding in rythmic harmony with
the day. But at the beginning of the third inning one of the boys from
his Sunday-school class strolled by and flung himself full length on
the grass at his feet where he could see his profile just as he had
seen it on Sunday while he was listening to the story that the teacher
always told to introduce the lesson. He could see the blue of Lynn
Severn's eyes as she told it, and strangely enough portions of the tale
came floating back in trailing mist across the dusty baseball diamond
and obscured the sight of Sloppy Hedrick sliding to his base. It was a
tale of one, Judas, who betrayed his best Friend with a kiss. It came
with strange illogical persistence, and seemed curiously incongruous
with the sweet air of summer blowing over the hard young faces and
dusty diamond. What had Judas to do with a baseball game, or with Billy
Gaston and what he meant to do on the mountain that night?--and earn
good money--! Ah! That was it. Make good money! But who was he
betraying he would like to know? Well if it wasn't on the square
perhaps he was betraying that same _One_--Aw--Rats! He wasn't