The old provocation had roused up the old antagonism in Lovely. He hardly dared trust himself longer in the room, so he bolted and slipped down to the Waladoo's room and out into the campus. "Gee," he said to himself, with a sigh of relief, "if I could only get at him _now_!" At taps he went cautiously to the Upper, by the back way, and gained the room of Charley De Soto, where he was told to turn in on the window-seat and take it easy. Presently Turkey Reiter and Macnooder arrived to discuss the probabilities. Then Bojo Lowry, who could play anything, sat down at the piano and performed the most wonderful variations and medleys, until Lovely forgot any future engagement in the delight of gazing from his cushioned recess on real Fourth Formers, enjoying the perquisites and liberties of the Upper House. Suddenly Macnooder glanced at his watch and announced that it was almost midnight. Lovely sprang up feverishly. "Here, young Sporting Life," cried Turkey, "no champing on the bit! Just a dash of calm and tranquillity." "Easy, easy there," said De Soto, with a professional glance. "Ready here," said Macnooder, picking up a brown satchel. "I'll bleed him if he faints." They separated, and, on tiptoe, by various routes, departed from the Upper, making wide circles in the darkness before seeking the baseball cage, Lovely Mead supported on either side by Charley De Soto and Turkey. They gave the countersign at the door, and were admitted noiselessly into the utter blackness of the baseball cage. Lovely waited in awe, unable to distinguish anything, clutching at Turkey's arm. "Is the Gutter Pup here yet?" said De Soto's voice, in a whisper. Another voice, equally guarded, replied: "Just in." From time to time the door opened on the starry night and vague forms flitted in. Then other voices spoke: "What time is it?" "Midnight, Hickey." "Lock the door; no admittance now. Egghead, show up with the light. Strike up, Morning Glory!" A bull's-eye flashed out from one corner, and then two lanterns filled the gloom with their trembling flicker. Out of the mist suddenly sprang forty-odd members of the Sporting Club, grouped about a vacant square in the middle of the cage which had been roped off. De Soto and Turkey pushed forward to their appointed stations, where chairs had been placed for the principals. Lovely seated himself and glanced across the ropes. The Gutter Pup was already in his corner, stripped to the waist, and being gently massaged by the Triumphant Egghead and Billy Condit, captain of the eleven.