Dick did his best to cheer them up, as he knew Demarest would have done. He told them of the sold-out house, and kept up a continual string of whimsical, amusing comment all the time they were at table. Dinner over, they returned to the theatre again, and at once dressed for the first act. Presently the doors opened, and the house began to fill. Dick had finished dressing, and was strolling about the stage, resolutely trying to keep his thoughts from what was coming. Seat after seat in the auditorium without banged down. The low murmur of conversation gradually grew louder as the house filled. Presently he heard the sound of tramping, followed swiftly by jest and laughter, as a crowd of college fellows made their way to the front. He shivered a little. They would do their best to break him up, he knew. They always did. Then suddenly a wave of obstinate determination swept over him. He would not let them guy him. He would spite them all, and play the part so well that they would have no time for that. Presently the musicians began to tune up, and a little later the first bars of a popular air crashed out. Demarest had had the forethought to secure an especially fine orchestra, and he was wise. The boys would have hooted into silence anything less good. As it was, they contented themselves with keeping time with their feet, and when the chorus of the song began, they joined in, singing the words. The thunderous burst of voices was awe-inspiring—almost terrifying. Those of the company upon the stage shivered, and several turned pale under their rouge as they realized what they would have to face. Dick noticed it, and turned swiftly toward them. “You mustn’t mind them,” he said reassuringly. “They may josh a little at first, but don’t pay any attention to them. Play your parts for all that is in you, and they’ll stop pretty quick. We can’t fail, you know, with such a play as ‘Jarvis of Yale.’” A moment later he realized that this must sound decidedly conceited, but apparently the others did not notice the break. They were too much intent on their own feelings to think of anything else, but Merriwell’s cheery words put heart into them, and braced them up. The music stopped with a crashing bar, and was followed by loud applause. “Clear the stage!” Dick said swiftly. “All ready for the first act?” The first set was on the campus, with Farnum Hall on the drop, and Battle Chapel looming to the left. A crowd of fellows were sitting on the steps of the hall, singing in the moonlight. The men took their places, while the other actors scurried into the wings. Dick was with them. He did not appear until after the curtain was up. He raised his hand in a signal, and instantly the trained voices of the quartette broke the stillness. Softly, at first, they crooned the words of the familiar college air. Gradually it grew louder and louder, until the volume filled the wings. Dick felt his heart beating unevenly.