“Yes, we all want you to win,” came from Minnie Sanderson.  “I am going to root—­ isn’t that the right word?—­ for all I know how.”

“That’s the word!” cried Sam.  “I declare, before you get through, you’ll be a regular baseball fan!” And at this sally there was a general laugh.

Tom and Sam would have liked it had they been able to stay with the girls longer, but the other members of the team were already in the dressing room, donning their uniforms, and thither the Rovers made their way.  A short while later, the word was passed around, and the Brill team marched out on the grounds for practice; even Sam, as a substitute, taking part.  Evidently, the outsiders living in that vicinity were of the opinion that the game would be well worth seeing, for long after the grandstand and the bleachers were filled, the crowd kept coming in the several gates.

“My, but this is going to be the banner game so far as attendance goes,” remarked Sam to Bob.

“Yes, and it will bring us in a neat bit of money,” returned the Brill captain.

“How are they going to divide this year?”

“One-third and two-thirds,” returned Bob; meaning thereby that the winning team would take two-thirds of the receipts, and the losing team the remaining third.  This money, of course, did not go to the individual players, but was put into the general athletic fund of each college.

Roxley won the toss, and as a consequence, Brill went to bat first.  As the first man took his position, there were cries of all sorts, mingled with the tooting of many horns and the sounds of numerous rattles.

“Now then, Brill, show ’em what you can do!”

“Knock a home run first thing!”

“Don’t let ’em see first, Roxley!  Kill ’em at the plate!”

The Roxley pitcher took his position, wound up; and the ball came in quickly.

“Ball one.”

“That’s right!  Make him give you a good one.”

Again the ball came in, and this time, as it was a fairly good one, the batter swung for it, and missed.

“Strike one.”

“That’s the talk, give him another like that, Carson!”

Again the ball came whizzing over the plate.  The batsman struck it fairly, and it sailed down toward second base.  The runner was off like a shot, but it availed him nothing.  The second baseman caught the fly with ease.

“Hurray!  One down!  Now for the other two!”

The second man at the bat went out in one-two-three order.  Then the third player up knocked a short fly to first.

“Three out.  That’s the way to do it, Roxley!”

“Now, for a few runs!”

It must be confessed that Tom was a trifle nervous when he took the ball and walked down to the box.  The eyes of over twelve hundred spectators were on him, and those included the eyes of the girl he thought the dearest in all the world.  He gave a short sigh, and then suddenly braced up.  “I’ve got to do it,” he muttered to himself.  “I’ve simply got to!”