There was a record-breaking crowd, and the rebuilt grandstand was taxed to its capacity. Though the Canton game was one of the minor contests, it always drew well, and was quite a society function, for the school was an exclusive one. The cadets, in their natty uniforms, came almost in a body, and of course the girls were there in “beautiful bunches,” as Holly Cross said. Not only damsels from the military school town, but from Fairview and from Haddonfield.
“I tell you what it is,” said Holly, as he was practicing with his mates; “‘uniforms git gals,’ as the schoolboy once wrote in his composition. ‘If you can’t be a soldier, be a policeman, for uniforms git girls.’”
“It’s got ’em here to-day, all right,” observed Sid. “I hope that——”
“That the heads of our particular girls aren’t turned by any of the cadets,” finished Phil, with a laugh.
The game was on, and it was seen that, while Randall had every chance of beating, she would have no easy contest for the victory. The cadets played with a beautiful precision, and their team work was something that made Coach Lighton sigh in vain.
“Why can’t I get our fellows to play like that?” he asked in despair of Captain Woodhouse, during a lull in the game, when one of the cadets had the wind knocked out of him.
“It’s because of the changes so late in the season,” declared Kindlings. “We miss Kerr and Bricktop.”
“Well, go on in and do ’em up,” advised the coach, as the referee’s whistle blew. “Don’t let ’em score on you.”
“Not if I know it,” answered the captain.
The game was resumed fiercely. Knowing they had little chance to win the game, the cadets devoted all their energies to trying to score. They wanted at least one touchdown, or a field goal, and Randall was determined they should have neither.