“Now, then, fellows,” said Handy.
As the Ophir lads appeared, there was another round of cheering; but the volume of sound and the enthusiasm were no greater than in the case of their opponents. At sight of the Ophir squad, the Gold Hill players bunched together and gave them their club yell in a most friendly spirit. Jode Lenning himself, who was always more or less of a disturbing factor, led in the demonstration.
Handy, not to be outdone by the rivals, bunched up his men and returned the Gold Hill greeting.
“Gee,” laughed Clancy, at Merry’s elbow, “you’d never have thought, a spell ago, that these two clubs were ready to fly at each other’s throats! The proper spirit prevails in wads and slathers.”
“This is merely by way of shaking hands before the bout,” smiled Merry. “The test will come when we get down to business.”
While the Ophirites were being put through a few of their paces, Merry started in to fulfill his promise to Colonel Hawtrey. He began looking for Guffey.
The other coach found him first, and came forward smilingly and with outstretched hand.
“Hello, Merriwell,” said he pleasantly. “This is a bully day for a game, and a bully crowd of spectators.”
“You’re right,” Merry answered.
He kept close to Guffey, in an artless sort of way, and was with him when Lenning and Handy approached to toss for positions.