Never in the history of the game in that city had such a crowd swarmed to the ball park. At daylight a dozen or more tired, sleepy-looking men and boys were seen in line at the bleacher gates, waiting in order that they might be the first to gain admittance and so secure favorable positions. Before eleven o’clock in the forenoon two or three hundred people were waiting at those gates, and the steady influx began when the gates were finally opened ahead of time at twelve-thirty. Fortunately the police department was on the job, and the crowds were handled beautifully outside the grounds. On the field, at least forty policemen found themselves busy when at last the stands and bleachers overflowed, and the people began to swarm into the field back of the ropes, which had been stretched in anticipation of this very occurrence. It was, however, a remarkably tractable crowd. Even those who had bought seats in the stand and found those seats occupied, as well as the bleachers packed――being compelled, therefore, to stand in the jam back of the ropes――were good-natured, few complaining. This was the day――the great day! Jack Kennedy had come back, and brought with him Lefty Locke. They were waiting for Kennedy and Locke to appear, and as they waited they choked down and held back the cheer which welled from their rejoicing hearts. Presently from the clubhouse the Specters came pushing through the gathering mass of people, and burst upon the field. They were given an ovation by their admirers. Two minutes later there was a tremendous stir all through the stands, running over the bleachers and into the group of standees. Escorted by six policemen, Kennedy and Locke were coming, with the Blue Stocking players at their heels. Other policemen fought the crowd back, and made a lane for them to pass through. And when they debouched from that lane upon the open space of the field inside the ropes, it seemed that every human being upon the bleachers and in the stands had risen and was howling like a maniac. Such a solid roar, such a tremendous burst of sound coming from human throats, perhaps never was heard save at some gladiatorial contest in the Roman Colosseum. It beat and reverberated upon the eardrums with painful fierceness, causing more than one person to protect himself from the staggering effect of it by clapping his hands over his ears. And it continued while old Jack, bareheaded, with Lefty Locke at his side, marched from the ropes to the bench, his face pale, his eyes shining, his lips smiling. “They’re glad to get you back, Jack,” shouted Lefty in the old man’s ear. “You blame fool!” yelled Kennedy in return. “They’re not cheering for me. It’s you, boy――you, the man who’s going to give the Blue Stockings another pennant. Pull off your cap――pull it off! Bow! Bow!”