“I wonder what is the matter with Clinton Edwards,” said Tony, looking at his watch. “He should have been here before this.” “We must have Clinton and his gang to support us,” said Dick Palmer. “It would take some of the starch out of me to be victimized by a grand stand full of Park men, and not have a single backer.” “Oh, I’ll make all the noise you want if it becomes necessary,” said Tony. He looked somewhat uneasy, however, and whispered to me, “I hope Clinton hasn’t missed the train. His backing would do us a world of good.” The omnibus now drew up to the piazza where we were standing. We waited a long time, but Clinton Edwards and his companions failed to put in an appearance, so we were compelled to drive off without them. “The loss is all their own,” said Ray cheerfully. “They will miss seeing us win a fine game, that is all.” In baseball there is a considerable moral influence in being well backed by friends. We had expected warm support from Clinton Edwards and his crowd, and the sudden blotting out of this expectation could not but react somewhat upon our spirits. It did not, of course, discourage us, for as Percy Randall put it, “We were not afraid of the biggest mob Park College could get together,” but it affected our feelings notwithstanding. “Listen to that!” exclaimed Tony, as we neared the field and heard the sounds of cheering. “The crowd clamors for our blood.” “Well, they will get it――and boiling hot, too,” said Percy Randall. “If anything, it rather braces me to tackle this mob all alone.” “Come, fellows,” said Ray, as we drove into the grounds. “Step out lively now, and show the stuff that’s in you.” We descended from the omnibus, and in a compact group, approached the grand stand amidst an almost perfect silence on the part of the spectators. The Park men were already on the diamond, and practising with a vim that betokened a determined and confident spirit. I had half hoped to find Clinton Edwards and his party on the field, thinking that they might perhaps have gone directly there from the depot. Not a Belmont man was to be seen, however, so I resigned all hope of backers, and made up my mind that we must fight the battle alone. We remained seated on a bench at the side of the field, until Ray, who was standing near the home plate in conversation with Beard, turned and beckoned to us. The Park players were leaving the field, and it was our turn to practise. Throwing off our coats, we ran out, and set to work in fine shape. That the crowd was watching us was quite evident from a number of ill mannered remarks that I could overhear from my place near the backstop; but, beyond this, the spectators showed no appreciation of our efforts whatever. “All things considered, if we can play well enough to keep their mouths shut I shall be satisfied,” I said to Dick Palmer. At this moment Ray left Beard, and came quickly toward us. “We are in luck to start with,” he said. “We have won the toss.”