“They’re signalling to us,” said Spike a little later. “I guess they want us inside to come out all in a bunch, as Princeton did.”
This was the import of the message delivered to them a little later as they filed into the dressing rooms, where the team and substitutes now were.
“Remember, boys,” said the captain solemnly, “we’ve got to win. It’s Yale’s luck against Princeton’s maybe, but even with that it’s got to be bulldog pluck against the tiger’s fierceness. They can play ball.”
“And so can we!” declared several, in low voices.
“Prove it—by beating ’em!” was the quick retort. “Pile out now, and have some snap to you!”
If Yale had gone wild, so now did the students from her rival college. The orange and black, which had been in evidence on the opposite stand to that which showed the blue, now burst forth in a frenzy of color. Hats were tossed in the air, canes too, and one excited man dashed his tall silk head covering about with such energy that he split it on the walking stick of a gentleman seated near him.
“I beg your pardon,” said the one with the stick.
“Don’t mention it! My fault entirely—I’m too excited, I guess, but I used to play on the Princeton team years ago, and I came to-day to see her win. I don’t care for a hat—I can buy lots more. But Princeton is going to win! Wow!”
“I’m sorry for you,” said the other with a smile. “But Yale has the bulge to-day.”
“Never!”