“Here come the F’s. No danger of their winning,” Freeman said, as the final drill of the first day began.
Company F was the last formed of the seven. It had had but little practice, and nobody expected it to win, and nobody’s expectations were disappointed.
There might about as well have been no school the next day, for so great was the prevailing excitement that it was impossible for the boys to settle down to work.
The interest was even greater than on the first day. Before school and at recess hot discussions were carried on over the first three drills of the previous day, and much sympathy was expressed for Company B.
“It was a contemptible piece of business—calling out the wrong order as those fellows did,” Hamlin said indignantly, “and I, for one, am heartily ashamed that any of our fellows had a hand in it.”
“Who says any of our fellows did have a hand in it?” said Coyle, angrily.
“I know they did, for I saw some of them yelling,” replied Hamlin, “and a fellow that sat right by them gave me the names of some of our fellows who shouted the wrong order.”
“He might have been in better business,” growled Coyle, to which Hamlin quickly responded, “They might have been in better business. And then to pull down B’s flag just then, was too mean for anything.”
“The B’s are all Easterns. It’s time the Centrals got the prize,” cried Green.
“I want the Centrals to win, as much as anybody, I guess,” replied Hamlin, “but if we can’t win fairly I’d rather lose.”