Cap looked afar, and saw the figure of the venerable president bearing down on them. The head of Westfield school was eagerly perusing one book, and had another under his arm. Cap hurriedly dressed as best he could. He saw North slowly rising, assisted by his friends. Cap started toward him. “Where you going?” demanded Bill. “To shake hands—it’s all over. I want to be friends.” “You’ve no time. I doubt if we can get away as it is.” Bill, Pete, Whistle-Breeches and some of the others tried to get Cap in their midst, so that his blackened eye would not be seen. They hoped to be able to get back to their rooms by a round-about path, but, alas for their hopes. Dr. Burton looked up, saw them, and changing his course, bore down more directly on them. “It’s all up!” groaned Pete. Bill looked around, and saw North and his friends hurrying into the dressing rooms under the grandstand. He wished he had thought of that, but there was no time now. CHAPTER XXIV THE KIDNAPPED PITCHER “What’ll you say when he asks you what’s up?” asked Whistle-Breeches. “Guess I’ll have to tell the truth,” answered Cap. “Couldn’t you say you ran into the fence catching a foul ball?” inquired Bill. “Nothing doing,” was his brother’s retort. “The doctor would guess right in a minute. Besides, I wouldn’t fake it that way.” “Of course not. I was only joking. Well, he’ll be here in a second. He’s looking at us as if undecided whether we were Greek roots or some Sanskrit characters. Maybe he’ll pass us up,” went on Bill. “No such luck!” groaned Pete. “Pull your cap down farther over your eyes, and maybe he won’t see the bruise.” But all the efforts of the lads were seemingly to go for naught. The venerable president, squinting at them through his thick spectacles, smiled in a friendly fashion, as he came nearer. The students halted and touched their caps. “Ah, boys, just coming from a game?” inquired Dr. Burton. “Yes, sir,” answered Whistle-Breeches, who, being slightly taller than Cap, had stepped in front of him. “Ah, and who won, may I ask?” “We—er—that is we didn’t finish,” answered Bill, hoping to draw attention away from Cap. “The season has opened well, I hope,” went on the doctor. “And there are good chances for keeping the pennant here, I trust?” “We’re going to try hard,” put in Pete, who, being on the other side, trusted to draw the attention of the president farther away from his brother. As for that hero he remained quiet. “Pull your cap farther down!” again advised Bill in a hoarse whisper. Whether it was that or whether he would have noticed it anyhow, the eyes of the president went straight to Cap’s bruised countenance. He saw the blackened eye, and the cuts and scratches. “Ah, there has been an accident, I see,” he remarked, and he advanced closer to the lad. “Er—yes—that is I—” “Cut it out,” whispered Bill, nudging his brother in the back.