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“You’ve got to get to first, Eaton,” said the coach softly. “Try and get your base on balls; make him think you’re anxious to hit, see? But keep your wits about you and see if you can’t walk. If he gets two strikes on you, why, do the best you can; hit it down toward third. Understand? Once on first I expect you to get around. Take all the risk you want; we’ve got to score.”

“Batter up!” called the umpire, impatiently.

Eaton selected a bat carefully from the rack and walked out to the plate. The head cheerleader, looking over his shoulder, ready to summon a “short cheer” for the batsman, hesitated and ran across to the bench.

“Who’s batting?” he asked.

“Eaton,” he was told. “Batting for Pritchett.”

“A short cheer for Eaton, fellows, and make it good!”

It was good, and as the freshman captain faced the Blue’s pitcher the cheer swept across to him and sent a thrill along his spine. Perhaps he needed it, for there is no denying that he was feeling pretty nervous, although he succeeded in disguising that fact from either catcher or pitcher.