ield and the Kiowa
captain set 'em up to gum.

By this time people were being removed from the stadium in all
directions. There was a sort of purple aurora over the Faculty box that
suggested apoplexy. The learned exponents of revised football looked
about as comfortable as a collection of expiring beetles mounted on
large steel pins--that is, all but Professor Sillcocks. He was beaming
with pleasure. I never saw a man so entirely wrapped up in manly sports
as he was just then. Evidently the new football suited him right down to
the ground. He clapped his hands at every new atrocity; and whenever
some Siwash man put his arm around a Kiowan and helped him tenderly on
with the ball, he turned around to the populace behind him and nodded
his head as if to say: "There, I told you so. It can be done. See?"

When the Kiowa center kicked off for the next scrimmage he introduced a
novelty. He produced a large beanbag, which I presume Rearick had
slipped him, kicked it about four feet and then hurriedly picked it up
and presented it to one of our men. All of our boys thanked him
profoundly and then lined up for the scrimmage. Immediately the Kiowa
captain put his right hand behind him. Our captain guessed "thumbs up."
He was right and we took the ball forward five yards. Deafening applause
from the stadium. Then our captain guessed a number between one and
three. Another five yards. Shrieks of joy from Siwash and desperate
cries of "Hold 'em!" from the Kiowa gang. Then the Kiowa captain
demanded that our captain name the English king who came after Edward
VI. That was a stonewall defense, because Rearick had flunked two years
running in English history. Kiowa took the ball, but the umpire butted
in. It was an offside play, he declared, because it wasn't a king at
all. It was a queen and it was Siwash's ball and ten yards. That made an
awful row. The Kiowa captain declared that the whole incident was "very
regrettable," but the umpire was firm. He gave us the ball; and on the
very next down Rearick conjugated a French verb perfectly for a
touchdown.

All of this was duly announced to the stadium and the excitement was
intense. I guess there were as many as two hundred Chautauqua salutes
after that touchdown. Both teams had tea together and our rooters'
chorus sang "Juanita," while old Professor Grubb got up, with rage
printed all over his face in display type, and went home. He never went
near the stadium again as long as he l