They thanked him for his kind speech, and then nothing would do but that they must have supper with him at the most expensive hotel in town. Needless to say, this meal was done ample justice, and when Mr. Clarke informed them that he had hired rooms for them for the night the announcement was greeted with a cheer. "I have telegraphed home, so nobody will be worried about you," he said. "They know you're in safe hands," and his eyes twinkled. It was a tired lot of athletes that tumbled up to bed that night, and soon they were sleeping the deep, dreamless sleep of healthy exhaustion. CHAPTER XI THE NINTH INNING The morning of the all-important day on which the Blues and Maroons were to lock horns in order that the pennant question might be finally settled dawned gloriously. There was not a cloud in the sky and scarcely a breath of wind stirring. A storm two days before had cooled the air and settled the dust, and altogether a finer day for the deciding struggle could not have been imagined. The game was to be played on the enemy's grounds, and that, of course, gave them a great advantage. This was further increased by the fact that it was Commencement Week, and from all parts of the country great throngs of the old graduates had been pouring for days into the little town that held so large a place in their memories and affections. They could be depended on to a man to be present that afternoon, rooting with all their might and yelling their heads off to encourage the home team. However, they would not have it all their own way in that matter, although of course they would be in the majority. The train that brought Bert and his comrades on the day before was packed with wildly enthusiastic supporters, and a whole section of the grandstand would be reserved for them. They had rehearsed their songs and cheers and were ready to break loose at any time on the smallest provocation and "make Rome howl." And, as is the way of college rooters, they had little doubt that when they took the train for home they would carry their enemies' scalps at their belts. They would have mobbed anybody for the mere suggestion that their favorites could lose. They packed the hotel corridors with an exuberant and hilarious crowd that night that "murdered sleep" for any one within earshot, and it was in the "wee, sma' hours" when they at last sought their beds, to snatch a few hours' sleep and dream of the great game on the morrow. Not so the team themselves, however. They had been carried away to a secluded suite, where after a good supper and a little quiet chat in which baseball was not permitted to intrude, they were tucked away in their beds by their careful trainer and by ten o'clock were sleeping soundly.