CHAPTER XX

_The Captain of Cascade_

The resignation of Coach Haxton created a condition of athletic chaos at Cascade College. Some hint of what had transpired at the meeting of the Athletic Board had spread through the student body, and although it was garbled and colored by repetition, Larry Kirkland suddenly found himself a campus idol. The certain knowledge that he had been unjustly accused, added to the discontent among the undergraduates over the defeat at the hands of Golden University, and the startling rumors as to how Haxton had wrecked the team by favoritism, all combined to center the sympathy of the students around Larry—and those others who, according to rumor, had been unfairly treated.

There were rumors that the Athletic Board was planning a startling change in the coaching system of the school and that, because of Haxton’s failure, it was decided to return to the system of student management. The meeting of the board was awaited with great interest. During the first few weeks after the Christmas holidays no move was made by the board. The basket-ball team played its scheduled games under the direction of its captain, but, although the weather was favorable, no call came for the candidates for the baseball team. It was known that the faculty, aroused by the Haxton incident, was in consultation with the athletic leaders, and striving to evolve a system of handling all sports.

One bright morning, when the early trade-winds were sweeping away the fogs and the sun was shining temptingly, Professor Terbush summoned the members of the Athletic Board to his classrooms, and, an hour later, Clark, who for two years had been one of the student members of the board, emerged and posted a notice upon the bulletin board.

Larry Kirkland, with Winans, was strolling toward the hall, when a shout attracted their attention and, an instant later a cheering mob of Freshmen and Sophomores bore down upon them, and forming a ring, gave three cheers.

“What’s this all about?” demanded Larry, breathless as the fellows pulled and dragged at him, all striving to shake his hand at once. “Let up. What’s happened?”

Still cheering, they dragged him toward the bulletin board and he blinked, as he read:

NOTICE

Candidates for the baseball squad will report to Captain Kirkland at the baseball field, 3 P. M. to-morrow.

E. G. Clark, _Acting Manager_.

Larry stood staring at the poster, as if unable to grasp its meaning.

“Speech, speech,” yelled a diminutive Freshman.

“Speech,” howled the delighted students, enjoying his embarrassment. Larry, his face redder than his hair, struggled, protested and kicked, but was carried bodily to the steps, and placed upon the stone coping.

“Fellows,” he stammered, twisting with embarrassment, “I’m all embarrassed”——

“Who would have guessed it?” yelled little Turner, raising a laugh.

“Fellows,” Larry repeated, “I’m flabbergasted. This is all news to me. I can’t realize that I’m appointed captain. Maybe it’s a joke”——

“No, no!” cried several. “The committee decided upon a student manager and student control.”

“All I can say,” concluded Larry lamely, “is, I’ll do my best—to help old Cascade win, and I want you all to help me.”

An outburst of applause greeted his stumbling speech, and a moment later, seeing an opening, Larry dodged into the doorway and fled through the building, across the campus and did not stop until he reached his rooms. There he remained, cutting two recitations, while trying to realize the turn fate had taken, and striving to plan how he would form his team. He recalled his early experiences with the Shasta View club, and decided that, in selecting his men, he would follow the same methods.

Larry was busily engaged writing a long letter to Krag, explaining the situation and asking advice, when the door opened and Clark, escorted by Winans and Katsura, who had come to offer their congratulations, entered.

“Hello, captain,” called Clark, offering his hand.

“Hello, manager,” replied Larry. “I want to thank you fellows—I have been afraid it is a mistake”——

“Better thank Lattiser,” laughed Clark. “He talked the professor into it. Old Terbush came through like a trump. Said we owed it to you for what the committee did. We’ll never get rid of you now. He is as strong for you as he was against you.”

“He’s honest in his beliefs, anyhow,” said Larry, “I’d never dare face him when I was guilty. He made me feel guilty when I was innocent.”

“What are we going to do about the club?” asked Clark. “I never played the game enough to know it, but you may count on me to back you up.”

Larry explained carefully his plan for the formation of the team, and the idea met the approval of the new manager.

“You have the ground work of a team, anyhow,” he said. “I suppose you will select men to fill in the positions?”

“No,” replied Larry. “My idea is to forget that any one ever played on the team—and award every position to the fellow who plays the best ball.”

“You’ll have some of the fraternity men and some Seniors in your hair,” warned Clark. “However, what we want is a team—I’ll back you up and you may count on Lattiser and Terbush.”

The interest in baseball revived quickly when Larry’s plan for choosing a team became known among the students. Instead of the usual two dozen candidates, the field swarmed with players of all conditions, each hopeful of getting a position.

“Candidates for catcher,” Larry called, after the throng had been batting and throwing for half an hour.

“Torney is our catcher,” remarked Jacobs, the second baseman casually, as if imparting information.

“I know,” replied Larry, “but no one is a member of the team this fall until he wins his place. Candidates for catcher!”

Eight candidates stepped out.

“Pitchers!” called Larry.

“Oh, I say Kirkland,” said Jacobs anxiously, “the fellows who won their places last year are entitled to stay.”

“Not unless they’re better than the others,” replied Larry briefly. “We want a ball club, not a friendly, social organization.”

His quick squelching of the spirit of rebellion among the veterans appealed to the candidates. Fifteen who claimed to be pitchers were separated from the others and set to work throwing to the catchers. Rapidly the entire squad was divided into groups according to what positions they thought they could play. Not one volunteer offered himself for third base.

“Looks as if I have a cinch,” laughed Larry. “Don’t be afraid to try, you third basemen; if you’re better than I am you’ll get the job.”

Little McAtee, a splendid fielder and speedy, laughed.

“All right, Cap,” he said. “I’ll tackle you, but I think you can beat me.”

“I don’t want any one to think he hasn’t a chance until I tell him,” said Larry. “I won’t try to pick a team for three days, and then it will be a tentative one. Of course we’ve got to reduce the squad quickly, so those remaining may practice. But I want to keep twenty-five regulars this fall.”

“Well, that was a good start,” remarked Clark, as they walked across the campus after two hours of hard work.

“How do you think the fellows like the idea?” inquired Larry anxiously.

The responsibility of the position had commenced to worry him, and he feared that his innovations would not be received in good part by the students.

“The majority of the fellows who were watching agree with you,” said Clark. “I think most of the players believe it is the right way—but, I imagine you’re going to have trouble with some of the old players—and the fraternity crowd will be furious. Baldwin is trying to stir them up—says he isn’t getting a square deal.”

“I didn’t see Baldwin out to-day,” remarked Larry thoughtfully.

“Would you give him a chance to make the team?” asked Clark, stopping in surprise.

“Of course, if I thought him good enough.”

“Well—you beat me,” laughed Clark. “After what he has tried to do to you to give him a chance.”

“He’s a pretty fair player, if he attends to business,” remarked Larry. “I don’t want my personal grievances to hurt the team.”

There were two letters awaiting him when he reached his room. One was from Krag saying:

“Now is the time to be careful. It is harder, sometimes, to stand prosperity than it is to stand abuse.”

The other was a long, scrawly note from Helen Baldwin.

“I have heard of your good luck in being made captain,” she wrote. “Let me congratulate you. I do wish you would give Harry a chance.”

Larry whistled softly to himself as he read it, striving to guess how Helen Baldwin had heard the news so quickly.