"I haven't the nerve, if we let Boxer Hall take the first game of the season from us," was the reply. Fast and snappy practice began, and it was somewhat of a revelation to the Randall players to note the quick work on the part of their rivals. In getting around the bases, batting out flies, getting their fingers on high balls and low grounders, Boxer Hall seemed to have improved very much over last year. "We've got our work cut out for us," remarked Phil in a low voice to his two chums. "Say, Langridge has some speed, too. Look at that!" The new pitcher of Boxer Hall was throwing to Stoddard, the catcher, and the balls landed in the pocket of the big mitt with a vicious thud. "Don't worry. Sid, here, will knock out a couple of home runs," said Tom. "Won't you, Sid?" "I only hope I don't fan the air. How are his curves?" "Pretty good, for the first few innings," answered Tom. "After that you can find 'em easy enough. He wears down--at least he did last year." The practice came to an end. The preliminaries were arranged, and, with the privilege of the home team coming last to the bat, Randall went in the initial inning. The two teams were made up as follows: RANDALL COLLEGE Sid Henderson, _second base_. William Housenlager, _catcher_. Phil Clinton, _first base_. Tom Parsons, _pitcher_. Dan Woodhouse, _third base_. Jerry Jackson, _right field_. Bob Molloy, _shortstop_. Joe Jackson, _left field_. Holman Cross, _center field_. BOXER HALL Lynn Ralling, _second base_. Hugh McGherity, _right field_. Roy Conklin, _left field_. Arthur Flood, _center field_. George Stoddard, _catcher_. Pinkerton Davenport, _first base_. Fred Langridge, _pitcher_. Bert Hutchin, _third base_. Sam Burton, _shortstop_. "Now, Sid, show 'em what you can do," advised Mr. Leighton, as Sid selected a bat, and walked up to the plate. He faced Langridge, and noted the grim and almost angry look in the eyes of the former pitcher on the Randall 'varsity. "Make him give you a nice one," called Bean Perkins, who was ready to shout for victory. A ball came whizzing toward Sid, and so sure was he that he was going to be hit that he dodged back, but he was surprised when it neatly curved out, went over the plate, and the umpire called: "Strike One!" There was a howl of protest on the part of the Randall sympathizers, but it died away when Mr. Leighton held up a warning hand. Sid struck viciously at the next ball, and felt a thrill of joy as he felt the impact, but, as he rushed away toward first he heard the umpire's call of "Foul; strike!" and he came back. "Wait for a good one," counseled Phil, in a low voice. "Make him give you a pretty one."