he sharp sunlight. It was a day for light
wraps and sweaters, but many visitors, arriving in motor cars that were
now parked behind the gymnasium, were clad in furs. It was distinctly a
social occasion, for fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, aunts and
uncles had descended upon the school in numbers and half the fellows
were parading around before the hour set for the game with admiring
relatives or friends, showing their rooms and the dining-hall and the
gymnasium, and looking all the time a bit bored at the fuss and secretly
enjoying it. Harry Westcott was seen with his father and sister in tow,
while Roy Draper was surrounded by an enthusiastic flock of female
relatives.

Overhead a clear blue sky, scarcely so much as flecked with a cloud,
arched radiantly. The breeze was much too light to place a handicap on
either goal, and when, at a quarter after two, the visiting team trotted
across from the gymnasium, ducked under the rope at the end of the grand
stand and started to warm up it was seen that the long punts she sent
away showed scarcely any influence from the wind. Of course Claflin,
banked at the east end of the stand, greeted her warriors royally, and,
of course, Brimfield gave them a hearty cheer, too. But that acclaim was
nothing to the burst of applause that went up when the home team, twenty
strong, led by Andy Miller, romped on. Then Brimfield shouted herself
hoarse and made such a clamour that the cheer which the Claflin leaders
evoked a moment later sounded like a whisper by comparison.

Ten minutes of brisk signal work, punting, catching and goal-kicking
followed, and then, while along the road an occasional screech from a
belated automobile sounded, the teams retired to opposite sides of the
field, the maroon-and-grey megaphones, which had been keeping time to a
song sung by some hundred and thirty youths, died away and the
comparative quiet that precedes the beginning of battle fell over the
field. The officials met on the side line and then, accompanied by
Captain Miller, walked to the centre of the field. From the farther side
a blue-sleeved and blue-stockinged youth advanced to meet them. A coin
spun, glittering, in the air, fell, rolled and was recovered. Heads bent
above it, the group broke up and Andy Miller waved to his players. Then
blankets and sweaters were cast aside and ten maroon-sleeved youths
gathered about their leader. There was a low-voiced conference and the
team scattered over t