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"I'm afraid to tell you, Worry," replied Homans, earnestly. "When I look back at our work I can't realize it. But it's time to wake up. The students over at college are waking up. They will be out to-day. You are the one to judge whether we're a great team or not. We keep on making runs. It's runs that count. I think, honestly, Worry, that after to-day we'll be in the lead for championship honors.
Homans over-ran second, intending to go on, but, halted by Weir's hoarse coaching, he ran back. When Reddy Ray stepped out it was to meet a rousing cheer, and then the thousands of feet went crash! crash! crash! Reddy fouled the first ball over the grand-stand. Umpire Kern threw out a new one, gleaming white.
He let Murphy pitch, and at last, after fouling several good ones, he earned his base on balls. Once there, he gave Homans the sign that he would run on the first pitch, and he got a fair start. He heard the crack of the ball and saw it glinting between short and third. Running hard, he beat the throw-in to third. With two runners on bases, Raymond hit to deep short.
It linked Homans' team to the great athletic fame of the university. It radiated the spirit to conquer, the glory of past victories, the strength of honorable defeats. Then Dale and Stevens went out, leaving behind them a charged atmosphere. "I ain't got a word to say," announced Worry to the players. "And I've very little," added Captain Homans.
There is no finer, unselfish spirit brought out in football, than that evidenced in the following story, told by Shep Homans, an old time Princeton fullback: "A young fellow named Hodge, who was quarterback on the Princeton scrub, was making a terrific effort to play the best he could on the last day of practice before the Yale game.
"Youngster, you look good to me," said Homans. Ken also felt himself regarded with astonishment by many of the candidates; and Ray ran a keen, intuitive glance over him from head to foot. But it was the coach's manner that struck Ken most forcibly. Worry was utterly unlike himself. "Why didn't you tell me about this before you you " he yelled, red as a beet in the face.
Here appeared the deus ex machina, Charles Homans, Beverly Light Guard, Company E, Eighth Massachusetts Regiment. That is the man, name and titles in full, and he deserves well of his country. He took a quiet squint at the engine, it was as helpless as a boned turkey, and he found "Charles Homans, his mark," written all over it. The old rattletrap was an old friend.
When called in he hurried to the plate and drove a line fly to centre that Keene caught only after a hard run. Ken Ward rose from the bench to go out on the diamond. The voices of his comrades sounded far away, as voices in a dream. "Three to the good now, Ward! It's yours!" said Captain Homans. "Only nine more batters! Peg, keep your feet leaded!" called Reddy Ray.
"That'll do," said Worry. "There goes the gong. It's all off now. Homans has chosen to take the field. I guess mebbe you won't show 'em how to pitch a new white ball! Get at 'em now!" Then he called Ken back as if impelled, and whispered to him in a husky voice: "It's been tough for you and for me. Listen! Here's where it begins to be sweet."
"Stop talking about it! Let me out!" shrieked Raymond. Ken discreetly put on his coat and ran from the room. 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.
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