“Jove, but I wish I was going to be with you!” spoke Sid softly, when Tom paid a visit to him, just before the time for calling the game.
“I wish you were,” said the end. “I guess you’d better pray for us, Sid, for we sure are up against it.”
Phil managed to limp out on the side lines, where he sat wrapped in a blanket like an Indian brave, and watched the preliminary practice, unable to keep back the tears that came into his eyes.
There was a big crowd present. Every stand was filled, and there were throngs about the field. George Carter was to play in Sid’s place, and Art Benson would be at quarter. The rest of the team was made up substantially as the one that had played the previous games, save that Frank Simpson was slated to play one half at left guard, dividing with Sam Looper.
It was the first big game of the season, and both teams were on their mettle. In the stand given over to the cohorts of Fairview there was a big crowd, of which a goodly part were girls from the co-educational institution. Their shrill cheers, songs and cries mingled with the hoarser shouts of the Fairview lads.
“I wonder if Madge and the others are cheering against us?” asked Tom, as he passed the ball to Simpson.
“Well, you can hardly blame them for sticking up for their own college.”
“No, that’s so. Say, they’re a lively eleven, all right, aren’t they?”
“They sure are! Never mind, though, Parsons, we’ll go through ’em all right.”
There had been many changes in the Fairview eleven, but some of the lads who had played before were on the team. There was Lem Sellig, who played quarter, instead of in his old position of left half-back, Frank Sullivan was at right end, and Roger Barns was full-back; Ted Puder was playing left guard.