The Young Pitcher | Page 9

do with you--hasn't it, fellows?" said Dale, in slow,
tantalizing voice.
Worry Arthurs lost his worried look and began to smile and rub his
hands.
"Ward, look here," added Dale, now speaking sharply. "You've been
picked for the bowl-man!"
"Me--me?" stammered Ken.
"No other. The freshmen were late in choosing a man this year. To-day,
after your stunt--holding up that bunch of sophomores--they had a
meeting in Carlton Club and picked you. Most of them didn't even
know your name. I'll bet the whole freshman class is hunting for you
right now."
"What for?" queried Ken, weakly.
"Why, I told you. The bowl-fight is only a week off--and here you are.

And here you'll stay until that date's past!"
Ken drew a quick breath. He began to comprehend. The sudden
huzzahs of Dale's companions gave him further enlightenment.
"But, Captain Dale," he said, breathlessly, "if it's so--if my class has
picked me--I can't throw them down. I don't know a soul in my class. I
haven't a friend. But I won't throw them down--not to be forever free of
dodging Sophs--not even to square myself with you."
"Ward, you're all right!" shouted Dale, his eyes shining.
In the quiet moment that followed, with all the sophomores watching
him intently, Ken Ward instinctively felt that his measure had been
taken.
"I won't stay here," said Ken, and for the first time his voice rang.
"Oh yes, you will," replied Dale, laughing.
Quick as a cat Ken leaped for the door and got it unlocked and half
open before some one clutched him. Then Dale was on him close and
hard. Ken began to struggle. He was all muscle, and twice he broke
from them.
"His legs! Grab his legs! He's a young bull!"
"We'll trim you now, Freshie!"
"You potato-masher!"
"Go for his wind!"
Fighting and wrestling with all his might Ken went down under a half
dozen sophomores. Then Dale was astride his chest, and others were
sitting on his hands and feet.
"Boys, don't hurt that arm!" yelled Worry Arthurs.

"Ward, will you be good now and stop scrapping or shall we tie you?"
asked Dale. "You can't get away. The thing to do is to give your word
not to try. We want to make this easy for you. Your word of honor,
now?"
"Never!" cried Ken.
"I knew you wouldn't," said Dale. "We'll have to keep you under
guard."
They let him get up. He was panting, and his nose was bleeding, and
one of his knuckles was skinned. That short struggle had been no joke.
The Sophs certainly meant to keep him prisoner. Still, he was made to
feel at ease. They could not do enough for him.
"It's tough luck, Ward, that you should have fallen into our hands this
way," said Dale. "But you couldn't help it. You will be kept in my
rooms until after the fifteenth. Meals will be brought you, and your
books; everything will be done for your comfort. Your whereabouts, of
course, will be a secret, and you will be closely watched. Worry,
remember you are bound to silence. And Ward, perhaps it wasn't an ill
wind that blew you here. You've had your last scrap with a Soph, that's
sure. As for what brought you here--it's more than square; and I'll say
this: if you can play ball as well as you can scrap, old Wayne has got a
star."

IV
THE CALL FOR CANDIDATES
There were five rooms in Dale's suite in the dormitory, and three other
sophomores shared them with him. They confined Ken in the end room,
where he was safely locked and guarded from any possible chance to
escape.
For the first day or two it was irksome for Ken; but as he and his
captors grew better acquainted the strain eased up, and Ken began to

enjoy himself as he had not since coming to the university.
He could not have been better provided for. His books were at hand,
and even notes of the lectures he was missing were brought to him. The
college papers and magazines interested him, and finally he was much
amused by an account of his mysterious disappearance. All in a day he
found himself famous. Then Dale and his room-mates were so friendly
and jolly that if his captivity had not meant the disgrace of the
freshman class, Ken would have rejoiced in it. He began to thaw out,
though he did not lose his backwardness. The life of the great
university began to be real to him. Almost the whole sophomore class,
in squads of twos and threes and sixes, visited Dale's rooms during that
week. No Soph wanted to miss a sight of a captive bowl-man. Ken felt
so callow and fresh in their presence that he