“Something tells me it isn’t going to happen that way to-day.”
“Look—look at Jerome pull down that fly out in center field!” urged Cowles. “Now, there is a fielder. If we had him in Mason’s place!”
“Mason may be all right to-day,” said Nash. “Let’s hope he will be. But this is a critical game, and he seems to lack something in critical times.”
“He didn’t seem to lack anything when he grabbed that snake and held the thing for Merriwell to shoot its head off,” said Webb.
“That was a piece of nerve,” nodded Nash. “Even Hodge is not now making claims that Mason lacks nerve.”
“I’d give ten dollars,” asserted Mullen, “to know which of those fellows got the best of that fight.”
“I don’t believe it was Hodge,” said Webb.
“I’ll bet my life it wasn’t Mason!” exclaimed Cowles.
“Then it must have been a draw,” grinned Mullen.
There was a stir, and then the men down in front gave a signal with waving arms. Onto the field trotted the Yale team, and the Yale bleachers rose and greeted the heroes with a great roar of welcome.