“They can’t touch it,” he muttered.
“Eh?” said Browning. “What’s that? Touch what?”
“You’ll see,” said Hodge, his eyes gleaming. “Frank says the Yale team will be a surprise, but I know what will be a still greater surprise.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
PRINCETON’S STARTER.
The opening game of the college league was on. Yale and Princeton were drawn up for the first struggle on the grounds of the latter nine. Yale was in the field, with “Stew” Walbert in the box. The preliminary practice was all over, and the umpire was opening a box to extract a brand new ball.
Haggerty and Merriwell were on the bench in uniform. Browning was on the bench in citizen’s clothes. Merriwell showed no signs of nervousness. Browning was placid as a spring morning. Haggerty fidgeted.
Yale was not well represented by “rooters” from New Haven. There was one lonesome little knot huddled on the bleachers, trying to look happy and confident, but making a sad failure of it.
Yale men had stayed away. They felt that their team had no show at all, and they did not have the heart to go down to Princeton and root against a sure thing.
But there was plenty of blue in the grand stand. The young ladies there showed that they admired the boys from Connecticut, and they were not afraid to show their colors.