“Oh, I guess it will. There, the glass is tight now,” and Pete, who had used his knife to set the screw, tapped the rubber frame to listen for any vibration. There was none. “Well, I’ll be going,” announced Guilder, with an air of relief. “See you at the game. It’s most time to start,” and he slipped from the room, just before Bill returned. “I wonder what he wanted?” mused Pete, looking after the retreating figure of the rich lad. “Mighty funny his getting friendly all of a sudden. I wonder what he wanted?” Pete looked at his brother’s glasses. He glanced toward Bondy’s room, and pondered again. Just then Bill came in. “Say, son, you ought to keep these locked up,” remarked Pete, handing the glasses to him. “Why?” “They might get broken if you leave them around so promiscuous. I just tightened a screw.” “Thanks. Crimps! but I’ve got to hustle. I was showing Whistle-Breeches how to mend a rip in his stocking. He was for tying a string around it as if it was a bag he was closing up. Well, we’ll soon be slaughtering—or slaughtered; eh?” “Yes, how about you?” “Fit as a fiddle. I wish I had to pitch the whole game.” “Maybe you won’t after you see the way they knock you out. They’ve got some hard hitters.” “I’m not worrying. Is Cap on the job?” “Yes, we’re all ready. What are you waiting for?” “Just got to put a few more stitches in this jacket. I’ll be right over. Go ahead.” “No, we’ll wait for you,” and Pete took a chair in his brother’s room. He was thinking of Bondy’s visit but he made up his mind to say nothing about it at present. After all he might be wrong in his suspicion, but he resolved to keep a sharp lookout. Soon Bill had finished his sewing task, and went out with his brother. Cap joined them, and a little later they were on the diamond, indulging in some light practice. Down the road came the sound of songs and cheers, mingled with indiscriminate yells. Then came the blast of horns. “The cohorts of Tuckerton!” cried Cap. “Here they come!” Several big stages swung into view, laden down with students and girls, for the boys had brought a lot of their young lady friends to see the game. The vehicles were gay with colors—flags and banners waved from canes and long staffs. Horns adorned with the hues of Tuckerton were waved and blown. Then came more songs, more cheers, more wild yells, and more rioting of colors, as the banners, flags, ribbons and streamers were shaken at the crowds of Westfield students who poured out and greeted their rivals. As the stage loads of spectators drew up and were emptied, another carryall swept along the road. It contained the opposing nine, and in grim silence, like gladiators coming to the battle, they alighted. “Three cheers for the best nine in the league!” called the leader of the Tuckerton cohorts, and the yells came in quick response.