A cheer greeted Bill’s unexpected appearance. His brothers who had given up hope rushed forward to clap him on the back. Whistle-Breeches did a war dance around him. There was wild rejoicing among the Westfield Freshmen. The Tuckerton Freshmen looked glum. “Well, he got here after all,” muttered Swain, the pitcher, to Captain Borden. “Yes. That farmer must have let him go before I meant him to.” “What are you going to do—protest again?” asked Cadmus. “No; what’s the use? I think they’re suspicious as it is. All we can do now is to play to beat ’em. Hang the luck anyhow, but—I s’pose it serves us right.” Borden had the grace to admit that much. Meanwhile Bill had rapidly told the story of his captivity and his ride in the auto. “I tell you what we ought to do!” declared Armitage angrily, “we ought to refuse to play them, and claim the game. The idea of kidnapping our pitcher!” “Easy!” exclaimed Cap. “That’s right,” put in Bill. “I wasn’t hurt any, and it was rather a lark after I got away. Besides we don’t know for sure that Borden and his crowd did it, though I’m almost positive it was his auto. But never mind. Let’s play ball.” “It’s too late to get into uniform,” remarked the captain, “and we’re to take the field.” “I’ll pitch as I am, and borrow a uniform when it’s our turn to bat,” spoke Bill. “But can you twirl?” inquired his brother. “After what you’ve been through—away all night—knocked around in an auto, no decent meal—” “That’s where you’re wrong, I had one good meal, and the next one can wait until we win the game. Miss Morton—she’s several kinds of a pretty brick, by the way—she got some sandwiches on the trip in. My! She’s a stunner! How she did drive! She—” “Oh, get in your box, and play ball,” interrupted Armitage, with a laugh at Bill’s enthusiasm. There were dubious looks on the faces of the Tuckerton players at the advent of the talented pitcher, but a gleam of hope came when Borden whispered that he might be all out of condition from his captivity, and could not hold his own in the box. Curiously enough it did not occur to any of the conspiring rivals of Westfield that they had taken an unfair advantage in spiriting Bill away. They felt that he had no right, as the Varsity pitcher, to play with the Freshmen against them. But if they hoped that Bill was out of condition they were doomed to disappointment, for when he had put on his glasses, which Cap had brought with him on a forlorn chance, Bill never pitched better ball. At first he was a little stiff, and issued several passes, whereat there was rejoicing among the visitors, and grim despair in the ranks of the home team. But Bill shook off his momentary indisposition, and when the final inning had ended in a dazzling succession of plays, the Westfield team had won by a score of ten runs to three. “Wow, Oh, wow!” cried Armitage, hugging Bill. “If you hadn’t come along we’d have been in the soup!” “Nonsense!” objected Bill.