"Of course," Prescott agreed.. "But you know what acceptance
carries with it? Now, we've got to make the nine, whether or
not. We pledge ourselves to that in accepting these fine gifts."

"Oh, that's all right," nodded Dave, cheerily. "You're going
to make the team."

"If there's any power in me to do it," declared Dick.

"And you're going to drag me in after you. Dick, old fellow,
we've absolutely as good as promised that we will make the nine."

Dick Prescott was now engaged in pulling the sweater over his
head. This accomplished, he stood surveying himself in the glass.

"Gracious! But this is fine," gasped young Prescott. "And now,
oh, Dave, but we've got to hustle! Think how disgusted the girls
will be if we fail."

"We can't fail, now," declared Dave earnestly. "The girls, and
the sweaters themselves, are our mascots against failure."

"Good! That's the right talk!" cheered Prescott, seizing his
chum's hand. "Yes, sir! We'll make the nine or bury ourselves
under a shipload of self-disgust!"

"Both of the girls must have a hand in each sweater," Dave went
on, examining Dick's closely. "I can't see a shade of difference
between yours and mine. But I'm afraid the other fellows in Dick