"We don't want to give them a chance," he explained to Dick Travers. The secretary of the athletic association nodded. "Quite right, Steele. They're so jolly well stirred up that a few words might start a near-riot." The players quickly gathered up their belongings, and started for the gymnasium just as the advance guard of the "bearers of evil tidings" reached the lot. From more than a hundred tongues came the result of the afternoon's work. The Somers party seemed to have dropped completely out, not even a single cheer answering the ringing cries of the exultant supporters of "Crackers" Brown. "You're fired out, Somers!" shouted Aleck Parks, with all his force. "We didn't ask the 'Ancient Mariner's' permission to do it, either." "Don't rub it in, Parks," expostulated Luke Phelps. "Don't you see--the poor duffers have given up already. Let's beat it over to the gym and see the final surrender. Gee Whitaker, mustn't they feel cheap! Come on, fellows!" The great crowd promptly fell in behind the players, a steady fire of comments passing from mouth to mouth. "Aren't they a nice lot!" exclaimed Tom Clifton. "What do you think of 'em, Bob?" "I guess it's more Dan Brown's fault than any one else's," answered Bob Somers. "By George--there's another bunch at the door of the gym. Guess they think the excitement isn't over yet." "Nice job facing that staring mob!" grumbled Charlie Blake. "Wish to thunder it was all over." "I almost feel like losing my temper and being rude to some one," sighed Dave Brandon. In spite of their feelings the players swung toward the gymnasium door with a firm tread, passing between lines of deeply interested, jostling boys whose sallies and jests all allowed to pass unnoticed. Inside the big room conditions were pretty much the same. But the ball players did not pause until the office of the athletic association was reached. The indignation meeting had had the effect of bringing every officer and some of the directors to the scene of action. As they entered Harry Spearman was found pacing the floor excitedly. "Hello, Bob!" he called, catching sight of the captain. "This has been a fierce afternoon, eh? Brown carried things with a high hand. By George! Let any of you fellows waver, and I don't believe I'd ever speak to you again." "No use to get excited, Spearman," admonished Sam Randall. "If there is a sign of backdown anywhere I haven't been able to see it." "Only because you're short-sighted, Sammy," screeched Benny Wilkins, who at that instant pushed open the door and peered in. "Get specs like Brown." "Sneak away from there!" cried Harry Spearman, wrathfully. "Go on, now; get!" "What's the matter? Can't a fellow even spy in the open any longer? Dave Brandon said----" Harry thrust him aside and slammed the door. "Those fellows think the thing is all settled," he exclaimed. "If it hadn't been for Brown and Lawrence talking a fierce streak to a lot of weak dubs who don't know their own minds----"