expected about two, but it was not till half-past that there was heard
in the distance the sound of the bagpipes.

"Here they are! That's Alan the cooper's pipes," was the cry, and
before long, sure enough there appeared Alphonse le Roque driving his
French-Canadian team, the joy and pride of his heart, for Alphonse was
a born horse-trainer, and had taught his French-Canadians many
extraordinary tricks. On the dead gallop he approached the crowd till
within a few yards, when, at a sudden command, they threw themselves
upon their haunches, and came almost to a standstill. With a crack of
his long whip Alphonse gave the command, "Deesplay yousef!" At once his
stout little team began to toss their beautiful heads, and broke into
a series of prancing curves that would not have shamed a pair of
greyhounds. Then, as they drew up to the stopping-point, he gathered
up his lines, and with another crack of his whip, cried, "Salute ze
ladies!" when, with true equine courtesy, they rose upon their hind legs
and gracefully pawed the empty air. Finally, after depositing his load
amid the admiring exclamations of the crowd, he touched their tails with
the point of his whip, gave a sudden "Whish!" and like hounds from the
leash his horses sprang off at full gallop.

One after another the teams from the Front swung round and emptied their
loads.

"Man! what a crowd!" said Hughie to Don. "There must be a hundred at
least."

"Yes, and there's Hec Ross and Jimmie Ben," said Don, "and sure enough,
Farquhar Begh. We'll be catching it to-day, whatever," continued Don,
cheerfully.

"Pshaw! we licked as big men before. It isn't size," said Hughie, with
far more confidence than he felt.

It was half an hour before the players were ready to begin. The rules of
the game were few and simple. The play was to be one hour each way,
with a quarter of an hour rest between. There was to be no tripping,
no hitting on the shins when the ball was out of the scrimmage, and all
disputes were to be settled by the umpire, who on this occasion was the
master of the Sixteenth school.

"He's no good," grumbled Hughie to his mother, who was even more excited
than her boy himself. "He can't play himself, and he's too easy scared."

"Never mind," said his mother, brightly; "perhaps he won't have much to
do."

"Much to do! Well, there's Jimmie Ben, and he's an awful fighter, but
I'm not going to let him frighten me," said Hughie, savagely; "and
there's D