Up in the square, Johnson's colored band was having a final rehearsal, while on the court-house steps the team, glorious in new uniforms, were excitedly discussing the plan of campaign.

Little boys shouted, and old boys left their stores to come out and give a bit of advice or encouragement to the waiting warriors.

Maidens in crisp lawn dresses and flying ribbons fluttered about in a tremor of anticipation.
Sandy Kilday, with his cap pulled over his eyes, went up Back street.
If he could not make the devil get behind him, he at least could get behind the devil.

Without a moment's hesitation he would have given ten years of sober middle-age life for that one glorious day of youth on the Lexington diamond, with the victory to be fought for, and the grand stand to be won.
He tried not to keep step with the music--he even tried to think of quadratic equations--as he marched heroically on to the academy.

His was the face of a Christian martyr relinquishing life for a good but hopeless cause.
Late that afternoon Judge Hollis left his office and walked around to the academy.