side-lines don't lose any time; watch your men, find out their tricks,
see if they look up or change their footing when they start for an end
run. Everything is going to count. Now, come on."

They joined the eleven below and presently, in a compact body, went
out and through Memorial and the chapel, where suddenly the field
appeared and a great roar went up from the school.

"All ready," said the captain.

They broke into a trot and swept up to the cheering mass. Dink
remembered seeing the Tennessee Shad, in his shirt sleeves,
frantically leading the school and thinking how funny he looked. Then
some one pulled a blanket over him and he was camped among the
substitutes, peering out at the gridiron where already the two elevens
were sweeping back and forth in vigorous signal drill.

He looked eagerly at the Andover eleven. They were big, rangy fellows
and their team worked with a precision and machine-like rush that the
red and black team did not have.

"Trouble with us is," said the voice of Fatty Harris, at his elbow,
"our team's never gotten together. The fellows would rather slug each
other than the enemy."

"Gee, that fellow at tackle is a monster," said Dink, picking out
McCarty's opponent.

"Look at Turkey Reiter and the Waladoo Bird," continued Fatty Harris.
"Bad blood! And there's Tough McCarty and King Lentz. We're not
together, I tell you! We're hanging apart!"

"Lord, will they ever begin!" said Dink, blowing on his hands that had
suddenly gone limp and clammy.

"We've won the toss," said another voice. "There's a big wind, we'll
take sides."

"Andover's kick-off," said Fatty Harris.

Stover sunk his head in his blanket, waiting for the awful moment to
end. Then a whistle piped and he raised his head again. The ball had
landed short, into the arms of Butcher Stevens, who plunged ahead for
a slight gain and went down under a shock of blue jerseys.

Stover felt the warm blood return, the sinking feeling in the pit of
his stomach left him, he felt, amazed, a great calm settling over
him, as though he had jumped from out his own body.

"If Flash Condit can once get loose," he said quietly, "he'll score.
They ought to try a dash through tackle before the others warm up.
Good!"

As if in obedience to his thought Flash Condit came rushing through
the line, between end and tackle, but the Andover left half-back, who
was alert, caught him and brought him to the ground after a gain of
ten yards.