On the ground just outside the rope sat West and a throng of boys from Hampton House.

There were Cooke and Cartwright and Somers and Digbee--and yes, Wesley Blair, looking very glum and unhappy.

He had donned his football clothes, perhaps from force of habit, and sat there taking little part in the conversation, but studying attentively the blue-clad youths who were warming-up on the gridiron.

A very stalwart lot of youngsters, those same youths looked to be, and handled the ball as though to the manner born, and passed and fell and kicked short high punts with discouraging ease and vim.
But one acquaintance at least was missing.

Not Bartlett Cloud, for he sat with his sister and mother on the seats; not Clausen, for he sat among the substitutes; not Sproule, since he was present but a moment since.