“Yale always can do it!”
“Bull dog grit!”
“The blue always wins!”
“They came—they saw—but—we conquered!”
It was the close of the Yale-Amherst baseball game, and the sons of Eli had gloriously triumphed. They had trailed the banners of their opponents in the dust, they had raced around the bases, they had batted the ball into the far corners of the field, and they had raced home with the runs.
“I told you so!” chirped Jimmie Lee.
“Hold on!” cried Slim Jones. “Didn’t you start to be a calamity howler, and say Yale wouldn’t win?”
“Never!” asserted Jimmie.
“Yes, you did!”
“Well, I was only bluffing. I knew we could put it all over them.”