Dick Merriwell had, immediately after they left Parker’s room, gone to a telephone, and called up Captain Bowen, of Harvard.
“I have a confession that clears Phillips completely and in every detail,” the Yale coach told the Harvard captain. “I will bring this with me and show it to you to-morrow morning. Meanwhile, if you will take my word for it, I’d like to announce that Phillips can play.”
“Go ahead!” cried Bowen joyously. “That’s the best news I’ve heard since I got my ‘H.’ I would have felt rotten about this series if Phillips hadn’t been able to play. You don’t need to show me anything, Merriwell. Your word is all any of us want. We know you and Yale too well not to accept any statement you can make at its face value.”
And, within an hour, Dick received from Bowen a long telegram, formally withdrawing Harvard’s protest against Jim Phillips and expressing the hope that he would be able to play against the crimson in the first game of the series.
“I certainly like to meet sportsmen like that,” said Dick heartily, when he showed the telegram to Phillips and Brady. “We fight them hard on the field, but there’s no hard feeling when the game’s over, and that’s the way it ought to be among all the colleges.”
So there was a tremendous ovation for Jim Phillips as the train pulled out. The Yale special car was at the rear end of the train, and as many of the baseball players as could find room on the observation platform at the back of the car were there to wave their hands to the enthusiastic crowd behind.
“Well,” said Jim Phillips, as the train pulled out, “I’m certainly glad that we’re through with this trouble. All we’ve got to do now is to play baseball, and, as long as we do our best, it doesn’t make much difference whether we win or lose. That’s one thing we can do, anyhow—play baseball.”
There was nothing eventful about the trip to Boston. The train arrived on time, and the squad went immediately to a great hotel in the Back Bay section, whence the drive to Cambridge the next morning would be a comparatively short one, and one easily to be made without any untoward incident.
“It looks like a good day for the game,” said Jim, to Brady, after they had unpacked their bags in the room they were to share for the night. “Not a cloud in the sky—and everything deep blue. If there was a red sunset, I’d be inclined to imitate Woeful Watson and say that that meant a Harvard day to-morrow. But I guess we’re safe. Even the omens are pulling for us to win.”
“I guess we’ll do that, all right,” said Brady. “Let’s take a little walk downtown. It isn’t bedtime yet—not for an hour, and we can sleep as late as we like in the morning.”