In this grim frame of mind they finally reached the field where the battle of the young gladiators was scheduled to take place, to see a sight that would thrill anyone capable of being moved by such a spectacle.
CHAPTER X
WHEN THE GREAT GAME OPENED
It must be Marshall's great field day, that was evident. Business would be almost suspended while the game was in progress, only the most necessary stores keeping open. The grandstand was already filled to overflowing, newly arrived crowds trying to find seats anywhere they could, but with small success. Those who had the affair in charge must have underestimated the immense throng that would be attracted to the field by the fine Fall weather, and the prospect of a rattling good game.
As usually happens, the Chester crowds kept pretty much together. They could be picked out as a rule by the swirl of waving school colors, for every Chester girl and boy who had journeyed to Marshall to see their team win the game, made sure to carry the favorite combination.
Of course Marshall did likewise, and as this was their home town, they possibly outnumbered the Chester young people two to one. What they lacked in numbers, however, the visitors seemed able to make up for in noise. From time to time songs rang out over the field, that carried the sentiments of the confident Chester girls, over there with the sole purpose of encouraging their team to carry off the prize.
At one place a large number of boys from the other town seemed to be gathered, and there was always something doing in that especial quarter. Seated in the front rank was a lively little chap who carried a tremendous megaphone. This fellow was no other than the redoubtable Packy McGraw, Chester's cheer captain, who had done such yeoman service during the baseball games in leading the pack to hurl defiance at the enemy, and to encourage the home boys in every way possible.
When the humor seized Packy, or some stage in the game made such action desirable, he would leap the barrier, and jumping up and down like a harlequin in front of the bleacher benches, start his cohort into a combined school yell that must make the hot blood leap through the veins of everyone who called Chester his or her home town.
It was really a most inspiring sight, that immense gathering of people, all filled with animation, and a desire to see one or the other of the contesting teams carry the ball to goal and touchdown, until the victory had been won.
The best, of course, was yet to come, when, game being called, every eye would be riveted upon the figures in the arena, crouching like wildcats ready to bound into life in concert.