session of
great solemnity, announced its decision to permit the looming contest
with Delmar to be played there was much sober rejoicing. The athletic
world figuratively wore a mourning band on its arm but there had been
born a sense of thrill in its heart such as the prospects of no other
gridiron battle had aroused. The demand for seats at the Elliott
stadium became unprecedented. Authorities, harassed from all sides by
the frenzied petition for pasteboards, ordered the construction of
temporary stands but the clamor soon outgrew all bounds of
accommodation.

It was estimated that some fifty thousand fans must be denied the
spectacle of Coach John Brown's last team meeting the tartar of all
football elevens in Delmar. There was little doubt as to what would be
the outcome of the game but the conditions under which the game was to
be played were such as to raise interest to the highest human pitch.

It had been decreed that there should be no vying of rival cheering
sections with one another--a rather foolish decree, some
thought--finding it hard to imagine a football contest devoid of the
familiar and on-spurring "Rah, rahs." But this was an idea that the
faculty had devised as a mark of respect and no one could criticize the
spirit which had prompted the formulation of the decree. No, if the
game were to be played the proper tribute to John Brown must, at the
same time, not be lost sight of. And what could be more significantly
impressive than a crowd numbering upwards of seventy thousand, watching
a football contest in profound silence?

Wednesday night, after Red Murdock had got back to his room from the
services held for his beloved leader, he was surprised by a tap on the
door.

"Don't wish to be disturbed," he said.

"But I--it's very important, sir," intreated a voice from the other
side.

"Can't help it!" he snapped, his irritation being due to the enormous
responsibility which had fallen upon him. "See me tomorrow."

For answer the doorknob turned and the door swung inward. The
assistant coach raised his head, about to make angry protest, but the
protest melted on his lips at what he saw. Standing in the hallway was
the grim and resolute figure of Tim Mooney.

"I beg your pardon, sir--but I've just got to see you tonight!"

"Well,--all right. Come in."

The former Elliott fullback stepped through the doorway and pushed the
door shut after him, nervously. He came over toward the man wh