“Is Lawrence a big college?” Scott asked when the music ceased.
“No,” Johnson groaned in disgust.
“They seem to have a mighty good team,” Scott continued.
“You mean we have a mighty rotten one,” Johnson retorted. “They ought to bury Lawrence, and if they can’t they ought to be ashamed of themselves.”
“They are doing the best they can,” Scott said, “and they ought to be supported. They can’t help it if the other fellows are better.”
“That won’t stop them from getting licked,” Johnson growled.
“What difference does it make if they do get licked?” Scott argued. “You ought to give the other people credit—” he began, when there was a half hearted cheer and the teams trotted out on the field again.
“Now let’s see if the ‘old man’ has put a bug in their ear.” Johnson said, leaning forward with renewed hope.
The game started out pretty much as before, but not so fast. The ball was creeping steadily down into Minnesota territory when a poor pass carried it over the head of the Lawrence fullback, he fumbled in trying to recover it, and a Minnesota man got it. The crowd cheered the poor pass wildly.
Scott looked around in astonishment. “What are they yelling for now?” he asked.