Kenwell, it was said, was strengthening her nine, and the final game was likely to prove an exciting and hard one. Meanwhile, the talk of the college, when it was not about baseball, was about the reconciliation between Frank Watson and the chums.
It was the day of the great game. The stands on the Boxwood Hall diamond were filled with students, girls, men and women, for it was a big attraction, this championship contest, and drew from all over the neighborhood.
Song after song welled from the rival factions. Cheer followed cheer. There were cheers for the clashing teams, and for the individual players. There were cheers for the rival captains, and “skyrockets,” and “locomotives” without number.
Out on the field ran the Boxwood Hall nine and the substitutes, to be received with yells of gladness. Then came the Kenwell lads, and they, too, were riotously welcomed.
There was some batting and pitching practice, and it was noted that Kenwell was “warming” up a new twirler.
“They’re out to do us,” murmured Frank. “Do your best, Ned!”
“I sure will, Cap!”
“Play ball!” called the umpire.
Only for a few minutes did it look bad for Boxwood Hall. This was in the third inning. Up to this time neither side had scored. Then two pinch hitters were sent in, who found Ned to the extent of two runs, putting the military lads that much ahead of scoreless Boxwood Hall.