The breeze was much too light to place a handicap on either goal, and when, at a quarter after two, the visiting team trotted across from the gymnasium, ducked under the rope at the end of the grand stand and started to warm up it was seen that the long punts she sent away showed scarcely any influence from the wind.

Of course Claflin, banked at the east end of the stand, greeted her warriors royally, and, of course, Brimfield gave them a hearty cheer, too.

But that acclaim was nothing to the burst of applause that went up when the home team, twenty strong, led by Andy Miller, romped on.

Then Brimfield shouted herself hoarse and made such a clamour that the cheer which the Claflin leaders evoked a moment later sounded like a whisper by comparison.
Ten minutes of brisk signal work, punting, catching and goal-kicking followed, and then, while along the road an occasional screech from a belated automobile sounded, the teams retired to opposite sides of the field, the maroon-and-grey megaphones, which had been keeping time to a song sung by some hundred and thirty youths, died away and the comparative quiet that precedes the beginning of battle fell over the field.

The officials met on the side line and then, accompanied by Captain Miller, walked to the centre of the field.