The benches were arranged on the ball ground this time, and Billy, who was manager, saw that everything was ready before he went home for dinner. When he came again he found Mumps, Redtop, and the squad of freshmen left on guard, looking as if there had been things doing.
“It’s good the cop’s coming to-night; the Kid’s crowd intend to act up,” Mumps said as Billy came up.
“What makes you think so?”
“They tried to beat us out of the benches.”
“How did you stop it? I see they haven’t been touched.”
“Mumps is the keen kid,” Redtop commended; “he told ’em we had those benches from the supervisor and could keep them here till to-morrow morning; and that we had a cop to see that no one interfered with them.”
“Bully for you, Mumps!”
“Redtop told the Kid that if they get busy hoodooing the Progressives that’s all we ask; it will be the prettiest sort of a finish for the Kid and Buckman.”
“Do you think that fixes them?”
“Yes, unless—They have some plan hatching to beat Hector that we can’t find out. The election’s no walk-over for Hector; I can tell you that.”