"I hope it rains Saturday, too," grumbled Phil. "We won't be able to make any kind of a showing at this rate."
"It will be just our luck to have good weather Saturday," sighed Shadow.
Even Dave was disheartened, but he did not show it. Instead he did all the practising he could in the gymnasium and helped Roger whip the eleven into shape. As he had said, he did not care for football as much as baseball, but he was resolved to do his best.
On Saturday morning all the boys were up early, to see what sort of weather they were going to have. The sun was under a cloud, but by nine o'clock it cleared up and a fine, warm wind from the south sprang up.
"That settles it, we have got to play," said Buster Beggs.
"Let us go out and practise as soon as we can," said the senator's son, and called the eleven without delay.
Of course the match had been talked over throughout the school and even outside. As a consequence, when the time came to play, a goodly crowd had assembled on the football field. There was cheering for both sides and the waving of a good many Oak Hall banners. In the small stand that had been put up sat Dr. Clay and about twenty visitors.
"I don't see anything of Henshaw and Babcock," said Dave, looking over the field. "They must be going to play."
"There they are, over in the corner, talking to Plum and Poole," answered Roger, pointing with his hand.