The first weeks were not pleasant for The Pilot. He had been beaten, and the sense of failure damped his fine enthusiasm, which was one of his chief charms. The Noble Seven despised, ignored, or laughed at him, according to their mood and disposition. Bruce patronized him; and, worst of all, the Muirs pitied him. This last it was that brought him low, and I was glad of it. I find it hard to put up with a man that enjoys pity.
It was Hi Kendal that restored him, though Hi had no thought of doing so good a deed. It was in this way: A baseball match was on with The Porcupines from near the Fort. To Hi’s disgust and the team’s dismay Bill failed to appear. It was Hi’s delight to stand up for Bill’s pitching, and their battery was the glory of the Home team.
“Try The Pilot, Hi,” said some one, chaffing him.
Hi looked glumly across at The Pilot standing some distance, away; then called out, holding up the ball:
“Can you play the game?”
For answer Moore held up his hands for a catch. Hi tossed him the ball easily. The ball came back so quickly that Hi was hardly ready, and the jar seemed to amaze him exceedingly.
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