"Three cheers for Holwell!"
"Now, boys, all together, give 'em the 'Chase Down the Field!' song!"
"Over this way, Elmwood. We'll run through the signals again!"
"Over here, Holwell, for some snappy work!"
These were only a few of the many things heard on the Elmwood gridiron the Saturday of one of the big games. The grandstands were piling up with their crowds, many dashes of color being added by the hats and wraps of the girls, while the sweaters and cap-bands of their brothers—or perhaps other girls' brothers—-increased the riot of color.
"Oh, what a fine looking lot of fellows the Elmwood Hall boys are," confided one girl to her chum.
"Do you think so? I think they look small compared to the Holwell players."
"Why Mabel, how can you say such a thing? There's Billy over there.
Isn't he stunning? Did you see him kick?"
"Oh, there goes Fred with the ball!" and the other girl with her eyes on the Holwell contingent, never looked at her friend who had looks only for "Billy" who was lucky enough to play on Tom's team.
There was a consultation of the officials and a toss for choice. Holwell got the kick-off, and Captain Denton was rather glad of it, for he had instructed his lads, in case they got the ball, to make the most of the early periods of the game, and rush the pigskin for all they were worth.