“You needn’t come down this afternoon, fellows,” said Ray, as we left the grounds at one o’clock. “Keep quiet and remember to go to bed early to-night.”
We had arranged to leave the next morning on the 9:30 train, but I was up by seven o’clock anxious to know what the weather had in store for us. To my delight, I found on opening my curtains that fortune again favored us, this time with bright sunshine and an almost cloudless sky.
“It may be hot,” I thought, “but still what of that, so long as it doesn’t rain.”
At the depot I found a large and interested crowd of students who had assembled, as was their custom, to see us off. The nine were all there, cheerful and in good spirits, Tony Larcom rushing around like a chicken with its head off, buying our tickets, checking our luggage, and answering all sorts of questions at the same time.
“At last!” he exclaimed as he caught sight of me, and stopped a moment to mop the perspiration from his face. “I was afraid you were going to be late. Got your valise? Here give it to me, I’ll get it checked. Jim; Jim! come here and get this valise. Hullo, Jim! Where in thunder is that fellow?—oh there you are—get this checked right away and have it ready with the other things. Cæsar’s ghost! but isn’t it hot? Yes, Frank, I’ll telegraph the score immediately after the game, don’t you fear. Here, you fellows, get out of my way—how do you expect me to do anything with a dozen or more crowding and jamming——” and off he rushed while I joined the other members of the nine.
In a few moments the train arrived and we quickly clambered aboard, Tony making sure that we were all there before he ascended the platform. Then, as the train moved off, Tony waved his hat, while the crowd at the station gave three rousing cheers, and with this encouraging sound ringing in our ears, we set off for Halford.
We expected to arrive there about eleven o’clock, for Halford was not many miles beyond Berkeley. Ray took advantage of this opportunity to say a few final words of caution. During the week he had frequently mentioned several points of weakness in the Halford nine, and given us directions as to the best manner of taking advantage of them. One point in particular he had brought out strong, and this he reiterated now.
“Remember,” he said, “the Halford men chiefly lack nerve at critical junctures. They are apt to go to pieces if pushed hard. They will play a strong game while they are in the lead, and while they can keep the bases clear; but heavy batting will demoralize them, and I think we can easily manage their pitcher. We must try to fill the bases. We must hit the ball every time. Don’t try to make home runs all the time, but hit the ball, and run bases daringly. Take every possible chance. We may lose one or two points by so doing, but we will gain in the end, for it will demoralize them, I know.”
When we arrived at Halford we found Slade and Bennett, the secretary and captain of their nine, awaiting us. The feeling between Halford and Belmont Colleges had always been extremely friendly, and kept up by succeeding generations with as much respect for the tradition as had our bitter animosity for Park College. Our reception, therefore, was of the pleasantest nature possible.
“Very sorry to hear of your hard luck over at Dean,” said Slade, as he shook hands with Ray and me.