Both teams were, meanwhile, going through a brief practice in signal drill.
"My, how Channing boots that ball—see it soar!" cried Frank, and soar it did. Channing was a remarkable punter for a schoolboy, and every kick he sent off was labelled danger for the catching backs.
"Jimmy is not in the line-up," observed the Wee One to Frank.
"No, didn't expect he would be at first, but I think he'll get in, for I don't believe Hillard will last long. He was never very good as a defensive player anyway."
"Horton wants to put him in anyway at the first of the game so as to get the best of his speed. Good plan, too."
"Think it is a mistake," ventured the Codfish, "because these fellows from up the river are going to slam-bang that line of ours, and they'll need all the defence they can get, and on defense Turner is about twice as good as Hillard. If I were coaching I'd put my best backs in and try to stop these fellows' fire, and then when I had them stopped I'd put in my fast fellows and run around them."
"There's wisdom in what you say, Solomon, but as you're not the coach, you can't give us a demonstration, and Mr. Horton will."
By this time the teams had finished their signal drill, and gathered each in a little knot while the captains went out to midfield to toss the coin for position on the field.
"There she goes," said the Wee One. "Bet you Queen's gets it."