field amid a riotous
welcoming from the umbrella packed stands. Judd studied the blue
jerseyed youths of Canton in comparison with the dark red clad boys of
Trumbull. It seemed to him that the Canton team was better drilled,
the players moved with more snap and machine-like precision. Judd felt
nervous and fidgety.

Trumbull won the toss and chose to kick off. There was a tense hum of
sound as Barley, Trumbull quarterback, knelt and pointed the ball on a
wet clod of dirt. Rudolph measured off the distance to kick. The
opposing captains raised their arms, the referee's whistle shrilled,
and the wall of red clad Trumbull warriors moved forward as the ball
spun into the air.

Rudolph's kick carried to the ten yard line where Drake, Canton
fullback, gathered it in and fell behind his quickly formed
interference. He slipped and slid through the mud as he ran. A
Trumbull player, meeting the solid phalanx at the twenty yard line,
plunged low into the interference, being trampled under foot. But he
succeeded in breaking the formation. Fellow team-mates tore into the
advancing runners and the big fullback was downed on the thirty-five
yard line after a brilliant opening run. The stands were in an uproar.

Judd had watched the play, being conscious of a peculiar pulsation in
his throat. The very atmosphere seemed suddenly charged with fighting
spirit ... he saw the Trumbull team ... now transformed into mighty
gladiators ... and he experienced a shocking sensation at the thought
that he was one of them ... in reserve.

Button pounded him on the back. "Wow! They failed to gain!" as the
first onslaught of the Canton line was repulsed for a two yard loss.

Before the game was five minutes old it was sadly evident that
today--of all days--weight was very likely to tell. The wet field was
bound to greatly handicap the work of both teams. There would be
little opportunity for fast, open field work or much passing. The
plays would have to be through the line or around the end--straight
football largely.

As the first quarter drew to a close, Canton had the ball on Trumbull's
thirty yard line, benefiting by a series of punt exchanges. Holding
desperately to prevent Canton gaining another first down, Trumbull was
slowly but surely pushed backward through the mud. With one yard to
go, Drake came crashing through center for three yards, battering his
way with scarcely any interference to help him.

Judd seemed to