"Vantage out!" called Rawson.

Walter laughed a trifle "sore-ly" as he returned the balls for his
opponent's next serve. He hated to lose, but he was a lad who
could take defeat gracefully if he had to, and this last play only
served to put him on his mettle.

Don's first ball was a cut, but Walter returned it easily, and a
new rally commenced. The captain of the Foxes played a net game,
trusting to his height and reach to stop every ball that came over,
while Walter preferred to, stand well back on the court where he
could place them better.

Back and forth flew the ball with such swiftness that Rawson had all
he could do to keep track of it. All at once, Walter lunged forward
to return a particularly difficult shot which Don had placed close
to the net. Biff! he just caught it and gave it a swift cut which
sent it whizzing past Don's extended racket to the base line, where
it raised a little spurt of dust.

Amid a murmur of applause from the young spectators, Rawson decided
in an instant.

"Out!" he called. "Game and set."

Before the cheers had died away, Walter walked up to the net and
shook hands with the victor.

"If you play like that when you're rusty, as you said you were, Don,"