The time of the game with Harvard rolled round at last, and the boys from Cambridge came down in force. Rooters with powerful lungs and tin horns galore were on hand. Yale was at home, and she was stuffed full of courage, for all of the queer team Frank had got together. Yale started off like winners, making two scores in the first. But, not to be outdone, Harvard managed to get in two on two scratch hits and as many errors. Then both pitchers settled down, and not another score was made for six innings. In the seventh Harvard scored. In the eighth Yale tied her. In the ninth Yale got another and took the lead. Then was the time for Frank Merriwell to show the timber he was made of, and he did so. Then it was that his double-shoot came into use, and won the game by fooling three of Harvard’s best batters so they all struck out. Yale had won the first two games of the series with Princeton and Harvard, and was fairly on the road to the pennant. Pink Pooler felt like murdering Frank Merriwell. He took no part in the jollification that night, but kept at a distance, listening with burning heart to the songs and cheers of the hilarious students. That night he realized that he was a traitor in every sense of the word, and he was more bitter at heart than ever before. “Frank Merriwell is responsible for it all,” he kept declaring. “He has the greatest luck! Sometime he will have the luck to get it in the neck. Those fellows made a failure of the attempt to knock him out before the game, but they got away with my money, for they would not attempt the job unless I paid in advance.” Although Frank knew he had enemies in Yale, he was not aware there was one quite so desperate and dangerous as Pink Pooler. And, despite all his enemies, with the aid of his double-shoot, he succeeded in piloting the Yale team to victory that season. The feat stands on record as most remarkable, for it was generally acknowledged that never had Yale put a poorer team in the field at the opening of the season. It was generally agreed that she won almost all of her games in the box. CHAPTER XXVII. NIGHT REVELLERS. “Phi Theta Psi! Caw! Caw! And oh! Phi Theta Psi! Most glorious band In all our land Is, oh! Phi Theta Psi!” It was ten o’clock at night when the fine old society song reverberated along York Street under the elms. The freshmen at Mrs. Henderson’s “select house of apartments for students” heard the song, and it set their blood to bounding. They had been waiting and expecting to hear it for nearly an hour. “They’re coming!” was the cry. Along the street from the opposite direction came another chorus! “And Theta Psi had better hence, Do da, do da; For Beta Xi has got the fence, Do da, do da day! Oh, we’re bound to sing all night, We’re bound to sing all day, The glories of our Beta Xi Forever and for ay!” “Is the punch ready?”