and sleep well. Then Saturday afternoon we'll go to Fairview and bring back the banner."
"Three cheers for our coach!" called Kerr, and Mr. Lighton, veteran that he was, blushed with pleasure.
"I hope we win," remarked Ford Fenton as the team walked to the dressing-rooms. "My uncle says"
But Kerr threw his big catching mitt with such good aim that it struck Fenton full in the face.
"Here—huh! ho! What'd you do that for?" he demanded.
"I didn't want you to wear out that uncle of yours," was the cool answer. "It's getting warm weather now and you'd better can him so he'll keep until next year."
Ford scowled and then laughed, for he was good-natured in spite of his one failing.
Sid entered the room where Tom was late that afternoon with a worried look on his face.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom in alarm.
"Pitchfork has decided to have a special Latin exam to-morrow for my class. Wow! I was counting on it going over, but it won't, and I've got to take it to-morrow."
"Well?"
"No, not well—bad. If I slump, do you know what it means?"
"You can't play against Fairview?"
