oward the end of the game I'll know that things have
gone our way."

"You won't be able to tell anything of the sort," said Neil, "for the
fellows are going to cheer just as hard if we lose as they would had we
won. Mills insists on that, and what he says goes this year."

"That's so," said Paul; "and it's the way it ought to be. If ever a team
needs cheering and encouragement it's when things are blackest, and not
when it's winning."

"And so, you see, you'll have to go to the field, Syd," said Neil as he
followed the other out to the porch. "By Jove, what a night, eh? I never
saw so many stars, I believe. Well, we'll have a good clear day for the
game and a good turf underfoot. Good-night, Syd."

"Good-night," answered the other. Then, sorrowfully, "I do wish you were
going to play, Neil."

"Thanks, Syd; but don't let that keep you awake. Good-night!"

The room-mates chatted in a desultory way for half an hour longer and
then prepared for bed. Paul was somewhat nervous and excited, and
displayed a tendency to stop short in the middle of removing a stocking
to gaze blankly before him for whole minutes at a time. Once he stood
so long on one leg with his trousers half off that Neil feared he had
gone to sleep, and so brought him back to a recollection of the business
in hand by shying a boot at him.

As for Neil, he was untroubled by nervousness. He believed Erskine was
going to win. For the rest, the eve of battle held no exciting thoughts
for him. He could neither win the game nor lose it; he was merely a
spectator, like thousands of others; only he would see the contest from
the players' bench instead of the big new stand that half encircled
the field.

But despite the feeling of aloofness that possessed and oppressed him,
sleep did not come readily. For a long time he heard Paul stirring about
restlessly across the little bedroom and the occasional cheers of some
party of patriotic students returning to their rooms across the common.
His brain refused to stop its labors; and, in fact, kept busily at them
long after he had fallen asleep. He dreamed continually, a ceaseless
stream of weird, unpleasant visions causing him to turn and toss all
through the night and leaving him when dawn came weary and unrefreshed.

Out of doors the early sun was brushing away the white frost. The sky
was almost devoid of clouds, and the naked branches of the elms reached
upward unswayed by any breeze. It was an ideal day, that