Then he foozled like a schoolboy, and I holed out in one and went on to the Cheese Box in two." "I'm awfully glad," repeated Joel, smiling up into the flushed and triumphant face of his chum.

"If you go to New York it will be after the big game, and, if you like, I'll go with you and shout." Outfield West executed a war-dance and whooped ecstatically.
"Will you, Joel?
Honest Injun?
Cross your heart and hope to die?
Then shake hands, my lad; it's a bargain! Now, where's my chemistry ?" The days flew by and the date of the Yates game rapidly approached.

The practice was secret every afternoon, and the coaches lost weight eluding the newspaper reporters.

Prince disappointed Joel by returning to the Varsity with his ankle apparently as well as ever, although he was generally "played easy," and Joel often took his place in the second half of the practice games.
And at last the Thursday preceding the big game arrived, and the team and substitutes, together with the trainer and the manager and the head coach and two canine mascots, assembled in the early morning in the square and were hustled into coaches and driven into town to their train.

And half the college heroically arose phenomenally early and stood in the first snow storm of the year and cheered and cheered for the team individually and collectively, for the head coach and the trainer, for the rubbers and the mascots, and, between times, for the college.
The players went to a little country town a few miles distant from the seat of Yates University, and spent the afternoon in practicing signals on the hotel grounds.