The dead game sports, white and shaky, went without stopping.
"They're a fine sample of vicious bounders, they are!" said the Tennessee Shad. "Bet that Slops Barnett is weeping to his pillow now!"
"I'm sorry I got you into this," said Stover gloomily.
"You've brought my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave!" said the Tennessee Shad solemnly.
"Don't jest," said Dink in a still voice. "It's all up with me, but I'll square you."
"Don't worry," said the Tennessee Shad, smiling. "I may not be a tin sport, but I keep my thinker going all the time."
"I mean you'll get twigged for a midnight spread, that's all."
"Taste it yourself," said the Tennessee Shad, with a wave of his hand.
Stover hurriedly dipped in a spoon, tasted it and uttered an execration.
"About half a bottle of horse liniment," said the Tennessee Shad, crawling back into bed. "Only, don't tell the others if you want to see how much dead game sportiness there is in them by to-morrow morning."
The affair made a great noise and, as Stover suppressed the transformation worked by the Tennessee Shad, Slops Barnett and his companions did not exactly show those qualities of Stoic resignation which might be expected from brazen characters with their view of life.
Meanwhile, the skies cleared and the earth hardened, and the air resounded with the cries of baseball candidates.
Much to his surprise, Dink found at the end of the strenuous day no impelling desire to plunge into fast life. Still the conviction remained for a long time that his soul had been surrendered, that not only was he destined for the gallows in this world, but that only the prayers of his mother might save him from being irrevocably damned in the next. It was a terrific thought, and yet it brought a certain pleasure. He was different from the rest. He was a man of the world. He had known--LIFE!
The episode ended as episodes in the young days end--in a laugh.
"I say, Dink," said the Tennessee Shad one afternoon in April, as, gloriously reveling on the warm turf, they watched the 'Varsity nine.
"In your dead-game sporting days did you ever, by chance, paint your nicotine fingers with iodine?"
"Used to do it myself," said the Shad reminiscently. Then he added: "Thought yourself a lost soul?"