The whole team was on tenterhooks. No one felt like talking, and some one would start a topic only to witness it die a natural death. The members of the nine paced to and fro on the diamond. They were waiting for news from Sid. If he did not pass he could not play, and it practically meant a lowering of their chances for the pennant. An hour went by. A few lads began coming from the recitation room where the examination was being held. "Some of them have finished," commented Tom. "Let's ask 'em how Sid's making out." One of the Latin students strolled over toward where the ball players were. "How's Henderson doing?" asked Kindlings. "Sweating like a cart horse," was the characteristic answer. "It's a stiff exam all right." There was a groan in concert and the anxious waiting was resumed. Fifteen minutes passed. Several more students had come from the room. "Where can he be?" murmured Tom. "There he comes!" cried Phil Clinton as Sid appeared, coming slowly toward the group. "I'll bet he failed," said Kindlings solemnly. Certainly in Sid's approach there was not the air of a conqueror. All at once he stopped, bent down to the ground and appeared to be tearing something to pieces. "What's he doing?" asked Tom. "Let's go see," proposed Kerr. They advanced and beheld a curious sight. Sid was tearing up a book and making a little heap of the leaves. A moment later he touched a match to the pile, and the paper began to burn. "What in the world are you doing?" called Tom. "Did you pass?" fairly roared Kindlings. "Sure," replied Sid as calmly as if he had always expected to. "I passed with honors, and now I'm destroying the evidence. I'm applying the torch to Cæsar's Commentaries and I'll never open a book like it again in my life. Come on, fellows, join the festive throng. Tra la la! Merrily do we sing." He began prancing about and the others, with yells of joy, joined in. Sid would cover first base for them in the big game. With a tooting of auto horns, the waving of many flags, shouts, cheers, yells of encouragement, laughter from many pretty girls, the waving of handkerchiefs, renditions of the college yell the ball nine and its supporters started the next day in a long cavalcade for Fairview. Several automobiles had been provided for the use of the team, and in one of these rode Tom and Miss Tyler, whom he had called for at her home that morning. A number of ladies went along as chaperones for the girls of Haddonfield. Dr. Churchill and most of the faculty also went to the game. "Aren't you coming, Professor Tines?" asked the head of the college as he and the other instructors were about to start. "No, I don't care much for baseball. I shall remain here and arrange for another Latin examination for some of the students." Sid groaned and his chums laughed, whereat Professor Tines frowned. "Do you think you'll win?" asked Miss Tyler as she sat next to Tom. "I'm sure of it," he answered promptly.