school. I'm thinking. You're a regular preacher."

"I don't feel a bit like preaching though, Dunk old boy. In fact I'd a
heap sight rather turn in and snooze. But, do you know I'm so nervous
over this game that I'm afraid I'll lie awake and toss until morning,
and then I won't be much more use than a wet dishrag, as far as my nerve
is concerned."

"I feel pretty nearly the same as you do, Andy. Let's sit up a while and
talk. I s'pose, though, if we ever make the varsity we'll laugh at the
way we're acting now."

"Oh, I don't know," spoke Andy musingly. "Some of these varsity fellows
have as bad a case of nerves before a big game as we have now, before
our little Freshman one."

"It isn't such a little one!" and Dunk bridled up. "The winning of this
game from Princeton means as much to our class, and to Yale, in a way,
as though the varsity took a contest. It all counts--for the honor of
the old college. How are you feeling, anyhow?"

"Pretty fit. I'm only afraid, though, that I'll make some horrible break
in front of the crowd--muff a foul, or let one of your fast ones get by
me with the bases full," concluded Andy.

"If you do," exclaimed Dunk, with a falsetto tone calculated to impress
the hearer that a petulant girl was speaking--"if you do I'll never
speak to you again--so there!" and he pretended to toss back a
refractory lock of hair.

Andy laughed, and pitched a book at his chum, which volume Dunk
successfully dodged.

"Well, I wouldn't want that to happen," said the catcher. "And that
reminds me. There's a rip in my glove, and I've got to sew it."

"Can you sew?"

"Oh, a bit," answered Andy. "I'm strictly an amateur though, mind you. I
don't do it for pay, so if you've got any buttons that need welding to
your trousers don't ask me to do it."

"Never!" exclaimed Dunk. "I've found a better way than that."

"What is it--the bachelor's friend--or every man his own tailor? Fasten
a button on with a pair of gas-pliers so that you have to take the
trousers apart when you want to get it off?"

"Something like that, yes," laughed Dunk, "only simpler. Look here!"

He pulled up the back of his vest and showed Andy where a suspender
button was missing. In its place Dunk had taken a horseshoe nail,
pushed it through a fold of the trousers, and had caught the loop of the
braces over the nail.

"Isn't that some classy little contrivance?" he asked, proudly. "Not
that I take any credit to myself, though. F