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 *ran's going to umpire for us, fellows. The Springdale chap's got tonsilitis or laryngitis or bronchitis or—or"

"Coldfeetitis," suggested Lanny. "Cochran's all right, I guess. What's the time, Dick?"

"Time to go. Are the cars pretty full, George?"

"Jammed! Looks as if all Springdale was here. They're running extras through from the station, though, and I guess we can crowd on. All ready? Come on, then. Gee, but I wish this was over!"

By a quarter past two, when Springdale came on for practice, the stands were nearly filled. The Blue had a section to herself and it was ablossom with waving flags and small white-lettered megaphones. Dahl's Silver Cornet Band, augmented for the occasion to the grand total of fourteen pieces, discoursed sweet—well, discoursed music; let us not be too particular as to the quality of it. Springdale was well represented, Clearfield was there in force. Dick had given tickets to Louise Brent and Mrs. Brent as well as to his sister and mother, and they were seated together in the front of the stand, Louise armed with a silken purple flag.

Five minutes after the Blue team appeared Clearfield's warriors emerged from the dressing-room