"Here's where the Tiger eats the Bulldog!" cried a voice Andy recognized as that of Ben Snow. Ben had come on with the Princeton delegation the night before, and had renewed acquaintance with Andy. They had spent some time together, Ben and the players stopping at the Hotel Taft. There was a laugh at Ben's remark, and the Princeton cheer broke forth as Dunk delivered his first ball. Then the game was on. "Wow! That was a hot one!" "And he fanned the air!" "Feed 'em another one like that, Dunk, and you'll have 'em eating out of your hand and begging for more!" Joyous shouts and cheers greeted Dunk's first ball, for the Princeton batter had missed it cleanly, though he swung at it with all his force. "Good work!" Andy signaled to his chum, as he sent the ball back. Then, stooping and pawing in the dirt, Andy gave the sign for a high out. He thought he had detected indications that the batter would be more easily deceived by such a delivery. Dunk, glancing about to see that all his supporting players were in position, shook his head in opposition to Andy's signal. Then he signed that he would shoot an in-curve. Andy had his doubts as to the wisdom of this, but it was too late to change for Dunk was winding up for his delivery. A moment later he sent in the ball with vicious force. Andy had put out his hands to gather it into his big mitt, but it was not to be. With a resounding thud the bat met the ball squarely and sent it over center field in a graceful ascending curve that bid fair to carry it far. "Oh, what a pretty one!" "Right on the nose!" "Didn't he swat it! Go on, you beggar! Run! Run!" "Make it a home run!" The crowd of Princeton adherents had leaped to their feet, and were cheering like mad. "Go on, old man!" "Take another base. He can't get it!" "Go to third!" "Come on home!" The centerfielder had been obliged to run back after the far-knocked ball. It was seen that he could not possibly get under it, but he might field it home in time to save a score. The runner, going wildly, looked to get a signal from the coach. He received it, in a hasty gesture, telling him to stay at third. He stayed, panting from his speed, while the Princeton lads kept up their cheering. "Now will you feed us some more of those hot cross buns?" cried a wag to Dunk. "Make him eat out of the bean trough!" "He's got a glass arm!" "Swat it, Kelly! A home run and we'll score two!" This was cried to the next man up. Dunk looked at Andy and shrugged his shoulders. His guessing had not been productive of much good to Yale, for the first man had gotten just the kind of a ball he wanted. Dunk made up his mind to be more wary. "Play for the runner," Andy signaled to his chum, meaning to make an effort to kill off the run, and not try to get the batsman out in case of a hit. "All right," Dunk signaled back. "Ball one!" howled the umpire, after the first delivery. "That's the way! Make him give you a nice one."