The people on the grand stands did not pay much heed to the practice work.
They knew that the players were merely warming up.
Coach Morton came down along the side lines, halting close to the cheer-master and his assistant.

After the first greeting Mr.
Morton turned his eyes anxiously toward the field.
The day was ideal---not too cold.

Though the sun was out, there was some cloudiness, yet without a sign of rain or snow.

The field was in excellent shape for a fast game.
"Why, Dick, you're _trembling_!" grunted Dave Darrin, in amazement.
"I know it," Prescott confessed, half guiltily.
"What's the matter ?" "Oh, nothing; only I'm so excited I can't quite keep still." "Afraid for _our_ side ?" "We're going to win!" asserted Dick, stubbornly.
"Yet you're shaking!" "It is buck fever, I guess.

O Dave, I _do_ love this grand old game!" Coach Morton half turned, sending a comprehending smile at the earnest young freshman.
"I wonder if you'd feel like that," ventured Dave, "if you were one of our fellows out there on the gridiron." "Not for a second," spoke up Prescott, promptly.