"Wait, I'll ask some one," volunteered Tom, and tapping on the shoulder a Morningside player near him, he asked: "Is he one of your nine?" Tom pointed to Sam Morton, who had not yet observed our heroes.

"What? Oh, yes; he's a newcomer here I believe, but he had quite a reputation, so Captain Dalton put him on as subst.i.tute pitcher."

"Subst.i.tute pitcher!" gasped Joe.

"Yes, he's rather good I believe. He hasn't had much practice with us as yet or we'd have played him part of the time against you fellows to-day.

Why, do you know him?"

"Yes. He used to be on the same town team with me," replied Joe.

"He'll probably play next week," went on the Morningside lad, "and when we meet you fellows again he'll probably do what Ted Clay did to-day,"

and he grinned cheerfully--there is nothing like a cheerful enemy.

"Sam Morton here," murmured Joe, as if unable to believe it, while his old enemy strode on without having seen him, and the Morningside lad, who had given them the information swung about on his way to the dressing rooms.

"Say, that's going some!" exclaimed Joe, as he and Tom walked on. "Fancy meeting Sam Morton here. I didn't hear that he was going to boarding school."

"Neither did I. He must have made up his mind lately. Probably he began right after the Easter vacation. I didn't spot him at the time of the banner parade."

"Me, either. But there was such a mob of fellows that it was hard to find anyone. But if he's here and he makes good, and pitches in some of the games, and if----"

"If you get the chance to pitch for the school nine, you and Sam may fight your old battles over again," finished Tom.

"That's right," agreed Joe.

It was a discouraged, disgruntled and altogether unhappy crowd of lads that returned to Excelsior Hall late that afternoon. Despondency perched like a bird of ill-omen on the big flagstaff; and a celebration that some of the lads had arranged for, in case of a victory, did not come off.

Tom and Joe were seated in their room, talking over various matters, including the game of the day, when there came the usual signal on their door, indicating that a friend stood without.

"That's Teeter," predicted Tom.

"Peaches," was Joe's guess, but when he swung open the portal both lads stood there. On their faces were looks of suppressed excitement.

"What's up?" demanded Joe.

"Lots. Special meeting of the athletic committee called. In the gym.

Come on!" panted Peaches.

"We're going to protest against the way Hiram manages the team!" added Teeter.

"Come on!" urged Peaches, recovering his breath. "We want you with us.

There's a lot of feeling against Hiram and Luke. They practically lost the game for us to-day. The revolt is spreading. It's a chance for you, Joe. Come on."

"There's going to be a hot time!" predicted Teeter. "We have permission to hold a meeting. All the fellows are coming. Get a move on."

Joe and Tom grabbed up their caps and hurried after their chums, Joe with a wildly-beating heart. Had his chance come?

CHAPTER XVI

A HOT MEETING

"The meeting will come to order!"

Teeter was in the chair, looking over a talking, shifting, excited crowd of lads gathered in the school gymnasium. He had a.s.sumed the office, and no one had disputed him.

"The meeting will come to order!" he cried again.

"Order! Order!" begged George Bland and Peaches. "We can't do anything like this."

"What are we going to do?" asked Tommy Barton.

"Try and fix things so we can win ball games," answered Tom Davis.

Joe did not say much. He realized that this was, in a measure, a meeting to aid him, and he felt it would be best to keep quiet. His friends were looking out for his interests.

"Order! Order!" begged Teeter again, and after many repet.i.tions, and bangings of his gavel, he succeeded in producing some semblance of quietness.

"You all know what we're here for," went on Teeter.

"No, we don't; tell us!" shouted some one.

"We're here in the first place to make a protest against the way Hiram Sh.e.l.l and Luke Fod.i.c.k managed the baseball team to-day," went on Teeter, "and then we'll consider what can be done to make things better. We ought to have won against Morningside to-day, and----"

"That's the stuff!"

"That's the way to talk!"

"Hit 'em again!"

These were a few of the cries that greeted Teeter's announcement. He was very much in earnest.

"This isn't a regular session of the athletic committee at all," he resumed. "It's a protest meeting, and it's going to be sort of free and easy. Any fellow that wants to can speak his mind. I take it you all agree with me that we ought to do something."

"That's right!" came in a chorus.

"And we ought to protest against Hiram's high-handed method. What about that?"

"That's right, too," responded several. Joe looked over the crowd. As far as he could see it was composed in the main of lads who were only probationary members of the school society--lads without voting power.

Neither Hiram nor Luke was present, and Joe could not see any of their particular crowd. He was mistaken in thinking that Hiram had no friends there, however, for no sooner had Teeter asked the last question than Jake Weston arose and asked in rather sneering tones:

"Do you call this giving a fellow a square deal?"

"What do you mean?" inquired Teeter. The room was quiet enough now.