“Now three cheers for the second beet nine—the one we’re going to wallop—Westfield!” called the same youth who was almost hidden behind a big bow of his school colors. Westfield was appropriately serenaded, and then they returned the compliment. The grand stands and bleachers were now beginning to fill, for a game of baseball between these two schools was worth coming a long distance to see. “Gee! what a lot of pretty girls!” exclaimed Pete as he stood with his brothers near home plate after some sharp warm-up practice. “You let the girls alone—until after the game,” advised Cap. “There _is_ a big crowd,” remarked Bill. “Don’t let it fuss you,” suggested his older brother, for Bill was likely to get a bit nervous, and he had never played in such a big and important game before. “Come over here and we’ll try a few balls. Better wear your glasses to get more used to them.” “Gee! maybe it’s a good thing I got caught as I did,” mused Bondy as he saw Bill putting on the goggles before the game had started, as he was practicing with Cap. “He’d have found it out by now, and the game would have been all up. But I’ll get him yet! I wonder why Mersfeld doesn’t come around. He acts afraid.” The other pitcher was afraid—horribly so. His heart misgave him for consenting to the trick, and yet he let it be carried out. At least he supposed it had been, for he took pains to keep out of the way of Bondy. And when he saw Bill in the goggles pitching a few preliminary balls to his brother, he wondered what sort of balls they were. “How long will he last—how long?” he murmured, for he thought the plot had been carried out. The crowds increased. The Tuckerton nine and substitutes trotted out for practice, and good snappy practice it was. Captain Graydon shook his head as he watched. “They’ll come pretty near having our numbers,” he remarked. “Nonsense!” exclaimed the coach. “They play fast and snappy, that’s a fact, but we can do the same.” “No, that’s just where our men fall down,” went on Graydon. “They’re good stickers, and can pull a game out of the fire in the last few innings, but they don’t wake up quickly enough. That’s what I’m afraid of. I wish we had decided to let Smith pitch the last half instead of the first innings.” “Say, that’s what we’ll do!” suddenly exclaimed the coach. “This is the first chance I’ve had to get a line on the Tuckerton boys, and I believe it will be policy to put Mersfeld in at the opening. He’s feeling sore, and he hasn’t as good lasting qualities as I’d like. We’ll put him up first, and if he can’t hold ’em down we can change at any time. I’ll tell Smith.” Bill felt a sense of disappointment that he was not to open the game, but he knew better than to dispute with the coach. Cap looked as though he could not quite understand it, and he wondered if it was a sample of what would happen in other games.