ve o'clock the Claflin game would be over with. But even a
five-minute cat-nap was denied him by restless nerves, and, after a
moment or two, he put his legs out and sat up yawning, feeling strangely
tired and listless. His bath helped some, however, and later on he was
surprised to find that as long as he kept his mind off the game he was
able to do full justice to a chop, two soft-boiled eggs, three slices of
toast, a dish of stewed apricots, a baked potato and three glasses of
milk! After that he felt better still!

There was a studied effort on the part of the players to keep away from
the subject of football that morning. Many of the fellows looked nervous
and drawn, and said little. Others were, or appeared to be, in high
spirits, and laughed a good deal and rather stridently, and talked
loudly of all kinds of things--except football. Jack Innes was even more
quiet than usual and almost jumped out of his chair when a boy at the
next table dropped a knife on the floor.

There were no recitations after eleven that day. There might just as
well have been none before that, for it's quite useless to expect a boy
to put his mind on his studies only a few hours before the Big Game! At
eleven the 'varsity players and substitutes assembled at the gymnasium
and, escorted by Mr. Detweiler and Mr. Boutelle, took a walk across the
fields and hills at an even though moderate pace. They were back a
little before twelve. Dinner was at noon, and by a quarter to one they
were climbing into coaches in front of Main Hall and at one-eight they,
together with most of the school, were pulling out of the Brimfield
station on their journey to Westplains, twelve miles distant.

Claflin was an older school than Brimfield and had a much larger
enrolment. Until last year the Blue had won three football games from
the Maroon-and-Grey, all, in fact, that the two schools had played
together. Last year the tide had turned and Brimfield had nosed out her
rival by one touchdown. This year--well, what was to happen this year
was still on the lap of the gods, but Brimfield set out confident
of victory.

Coaches met the players at the Westplains station and rolled them away
along the tree-lined, winding road to the school, while the rest of the
Brimfield invaders followed on foot or, if their pockets afforded it
and they hankered for luxury; in the little station-wagons which,
patriotically decorated with blue bunting and flags, sought patronage.