picion that Room 13 was simply trying to wash itself clean. Better, Praska had reasoned, that the Owl's side someday come before the school from some other spokesman.
For that reasoning Jennings now blessed him. If the story, with all its surprise, were now told to the nine The lather dried on the coach's face as he debated the plan. In the end his mind was made up. As conditions stood, Northfield was ruined. Nothing that might be said could injure her chances. On the other hand, the shock of a new conception, a new vision, may bring a rush of spirit and an awakening of fighting instinct.
No one, watching Jennings in the locker room as the nine dressed for the game, would have guessed that he was soon to throw dice with Fate. Standing at an open window, he seemed to be watching the crowds filling the stands and straggling out along the first and third base foul lines. Hastings always drew a crowd. He had sent a boy to the stand on an errand, and presently saw him coming across the outfield toward the gym. As the boy drew near, the coach leaned out the window—carelessly.
"Is he there?" he asked.
The boy nodded. "Center aisle. First seat on the left. Seventh row."
