the
students went out. In the distant city streets the hum of traffic grew
less and less.

It was quiet in the room where Dunk and Andy sat. Now and then, from
some room would come the tinkle of a piano, or the hum of some
soft-voiced chorus.

"What was that you said about horseshoe nails and bees?" asked Dunk,
drowsily, from his corner of the much be-cushioned sofa.

"Forget it," advised Andy, sleepily. "I'm going to turn in. I'm in just
the mood to drowse off now, and I don't want to get roused up."

"Same here, Andy. Say, but I wish it were to-morrow!"

"So do I, old man!"

The room grew more quiet. Only the night wind sighed through the opened
window, fluttering the blue curtains.

Andy and Dunk were asleep.

The day of the ball game came, as all days do--if you wait long enough.
There was a good crowd on the benches and in the grandstand when Andy
and his mates came out for practice. Of course it was not like a varsity
championship contest, but the Princeton nine had brought along some
"rooters" and there were songs and cheers from the rival colleges.

"Play ball!" called the umpire, and Andy took his place behind the
rubber, while Dunk went to the mound. The two chums felt not a little
nervous, for this was their first real college contest, and the result
meant much for them.

"Here's where the Tiger eats the Bulldog!" cried a voice Andy recognized
as that of Ben Snow. Ben had come on with the Princeton delegation the
night before, and had renewed acquaintance with Andy. They had spent
some time together, Ben and the players stopping at the Hotel Taft.

There was a laugh at Ben's remark, and the Princeton cheer broke forth
as Dunk delivered his first ball. Then the game was on.

"Wow! That was a hot one!"

"And he fanned the air!"

"Feed 'em another one like that, Dunk, and you'll have 'em eating out of
your hand and begging for more!"

Joyous shouts and cheers greeted Dunk's first ball, for the Princeton
batter had missed it cleanly, though he swung at it with all his force.

"Good work!" Andy signaled to his chum, as he sent the ball back. Then,
stooping and pawing in the dirt, Andy gave the sign for a high out. He
thought he had detected indications that the batter would be more easily
deceived by such a delivery.

Dunk, glancing about to see that all his supporting players were in
position, shook his head in opposition to Andy's signal. Then he signed
that he would shoot an in-curve.

A