"Oh, I don't know," returned the other, encouragingly. He lowered his voice. "When the fellows were most yelling their heads off, didn't 'Jack Frost' send three men to base on balls in succession?"
"Just as soon as the game is over I feel how much better I could have played," sighed Charlie. "Honest fact—all that rooting does get on my nerves."
"Just because you're not used to it."
"Nat Wingate's crowd certainly acted handsomely by you chaps," remarked "Crackers." "Nat is just as solid for the good of the school as we are."
Suddenly the high, piping voice of the youngest junior rose clearly above the clatter of tongues and the steady rumble and grind of wheels:
"Yes; it was the funniest sight I ever saw. He acted just like a kid; yelled as loud as a pirate! And the queerest part of all was that he seemed kind of chummy with Mr. Barry."
"I guess 'Uncle' Steve was figuring on selling him a bag of peanuts after the game," said a sandy-haired sophomore.
"Heard him say he was coming over to see the next game between the Stars and Ramblers," announced the first.
"Sure he didn't say slaughter?" asked "Crackers," gazing innocently over the rim of his glasses.
The crowd was in a tumult.