A few minutes later the umpire came upon the field, carrying in his hand the new ball with which the game was to be played. “Are you ready?” he asked. “Yes,” answered Ray. “Then get your men in position.” We took our places, and the ball was tossed to me. No batter had stepped up, so I looked inquiringly toward the bench where the Park men were seated. Then, as Arnold, their first batter, rose and picked up his bat, a student stepped out in front of the grand stand, and waving his cane, cried, “I propose three cheers for the nine. Now, fellows, give it to them.” A roar of cheers burst from the crowd. “Another one,” cried the leader, and again came the cheers. “One more round,” and a third time the crowd responded. This evidently had been expected by the Park nine, for Arnold stood as if awaiting it; and it was quite as evident to me that it was simply the beginning of a concerted action on the part of the crowd to demoralize us by shouting. Before the sound had died away we heard another cheer far away outside the field. We looked at one another in surprise. Was it an echo? No, for again it sounded, and this time nearer and clearer. Suddenly the truth flashed upon me. I turned quickly toward the entrance to the grounds. There was a thick cloud of dust in the road outside, and a rumble of heavy wheels; then the carriage gates burst open, and into the field rolled three large omnibuses gayly decked out with the beautiful blue banners of Belmont. Down the smooth roadway that skirted the diamond cantered the teams, while from the omnibuses burst roar after roar of cheers. As the vehicles took up a position on the opposite side of the field from the mass of the Park crowd, the well known form of Clinton Edwards emerged from the inside of one of the omnibuses. Climbing on top, he shouted, “Now, boys, blow on your lungs.” A terrific roar ensued. Then, having vindicated himself, Clinton Edwards sat down, and awaited the opening of the game. This novel response to the grand stand had a telling and dramatic effect. The crowd could scarcely have been more surprised had a bombshell fallen in front of them. For a moment they were completely staggered, and the whole effect of their cheering was destroyed. Whether Clinton Edwards had premeditated the surprise or not, his entrance could not have been more timely. Its effect upon us was magnetic, and our spirits rose mightily as the old familiar Belmont cheer rang out. Ray Wendell waved his hand to Clinton Edwards, while I, seeing that Arnold had taken his place at the home plate, grasped the ball, and made ready. “Play!” cried the umpire, and the game began. CHAPTER XXVIII THE THIRD GAME I placed the ball over the inner corner of the base, Arnold struck it good and hard, and sent it flying along the ground toward third base. Quick as a flash Percy Randall picked it up and threw it to first.