But Frank was stubborn and refused to consider the matter.
“Our nine is all right as it is,” he said. “Just because we lost one game to Kenwell doesn’t mean we’ll lose more. I’m not going to change my mind. Those fellows can’t play on the varsity, and that settles it,” and he banged his bat down hard on the floor of the auto-truck in which the defeated team was returning.
The subject was dropped for the time being, and was not mentioned to Frank again for several days by those favoring Jerry and his chums. But those opposed to them, on no good grounds whatsoever, nagged Frank into keeping firm in his determination.
The baseball season waxed. Because of the playing of Jerry, Ned and Bob the scrub nine won game after game, succumbing only to teams much their superior. They were doing much better than the varsity, which lost a number of games to institutions it had beaten easily the previous years. But there were still the two games with Kenwell, and by getting both of these the reputation of Boxwood could be maintained.
“But the team is in a slump,” said Bart. “It’s in a slump, and Frank knows it.”
“Only he’s too pig-headed to admit it,” agreed Bill Hamilton. “If he would let those motor boys in even for a couple of easy games, it would show what they can do and inspire confidence.”
“Yes, and it would give the regulars a rest,” went on Bart. “That is what some of us need--a rest. We’re overtrained, and it’s showing. Kenwell will walk away with us next time, you see.”
“I hope not, but I’m afraid so,” agreed Bill.
But when once more Frank’s closest friends ventured to plead with him for the three chums he got so angry that they decided it was no use.
Thus matters stood about a week before the second game with the military academy.
“Fellows, I’ve a feeling in my bones that something is going to happen,” remarked Bob one afternoon, as he tossed aside the book he had been trying to study, while Ned was plunking away at a banjo on which he announced he was going to become an expert player.
“What is going to happen?” asked Jerry. “Are you going to bang Ned over the head or put your foot through that perfectly rotten instrument he’s torturing?”
“I’d like to see him try it!” exclaimed Ned, but he took the precaution to retreat to his own room, for they were in Jerry’s, as usual.
