e'll be sore. You must let me out."

"I intend to see, Willie, that you'll be sore too, and skinned all over,"
replied Ken.

"Open this lid! At once!" roared Weir, in sudden anger. His big
eyes rolled.

"Bah!" taunted Ken.

Then all three began to roar at Ken at once. "Brute! Devil!
Help! Help! Help! We'll fix you for this!... It's hotter!
it's fire! Aghh! Ouch! Oh! Ah-h-h!... O-o-o-o!... Murder! MURDER-R!"

At this juncture Murray ran in.

"What on earth! Peg, what did you do?"

"I only turned on the steam full tilt," replied Ken, innocently.

"Why, you shouldn't have done that," said Murray, in pained astonishment.

"Stop talking about it! Let me out!" shrieked Raymond.

Ken discreetly put on his coat and ran from the room.

XIV

THE HERNE GAME

On the morning of the first of June, the day scheduled for the opening
game with Herne, Worry Arthurs had Ken Ward closeted with Homans and
Reddy Ray. Worry was trying his best to be soberly calculating in regard
to the outcome of the game. He was always trying to impress Ken with the
uncertainty of baseball. But a much younger and less observing boy than
Ken could have seen through the coach. Worry was dead sure of the result,
certain that the day would see a great gathering of Wayne students, and
he could not hide his happiness. And the more he betrayed himself the
more he growled at Ken.

"Well, we ain't goin' to have that balloon-ascension to-day, are we?"
he demanded. "Here we've got down to the big games, and you haven't
been up in the air yet. I tell you it ain't right."

"But, Worry, I couldn't go off my head and get rattled just to please
you, could I?" implored Ken. To Ken this strain of the coach's had grown
to be as serious as it was funny.

"Aw! talk sense," said Worry. "Why, you haven't pitched to a college
crowd yet. Wait! Wait till you see that crowd over to Place next week!
Thousands of students crazier 'n Indians, and a flock of girls that'll
make you bite your tongue off. Ten thousand yellin' all at once."

"Let them yell," replied Ken; "I'm aching to pitch before a crowd.
It has been pretty lonesome at Grant Field all season."

"Let 'em yell, eh?" retorted Worry. "All right, my boy, it's comin' to
you. And if you lose your nut and get slammed all over the lot, don't
come to me for sympathy."

"I wouldn't. I can take a licking. Why, Worry, you talk as if--as if I'd
done something terrible. What's the matter with me? I've done