“I want you to go to bed early to-night and don’t think too much about the game. In the morning, if it’s a fair day, be out of doors as much as you can, but don’t try to do much walking. Keep quiet. If it’s stormy get out for a little while and then settle down in your rooms and read or play games. Be careful of your eating, too. Take a good breakfast and go light at dinner. That’s all, I guess. I’ll be on hand early to-morrow in case anything comes up. Good-night and good luck.”
Rob called for a cheer for the coach and it was given with a will. Outside a howling mob was waiting to escort them to the meeting in the assembly-hall, and all the way across the yard the cheers and songs challenged the twinkling white stars.
Both Rob and Evan were somewhat silent when, after the meeting had ended in a final burst of enthusiasm and they had retired to their room, they were making ready for bed. “Gee,” muttered Evan finally, “I hope I can sleep. I feel as though I had wheels inside me.”
“Same here,” said Rob. “I wish the game was over with.”
“So do I. No I don’t, either. I just wish—well, I just wish I was asleep.”
“Well, here goes the light, chum. Good-night.”
“Good-night,” responded Evan dismally.
It was very still. Through the window, from where he lay, Evan could see thousands of bright frosty stars sparkling in the sky. That meant fair weather to-morrow, he told himself, and a dry field. Then his thoughts, in spite of his utmost endeavors, went to the game, and presently he flopped over in bed and addressed the huddled form of his room-mate, seen dimly through the star-lit gloom:
“Say, Rob, in that number 13 play does Deering start with you around left end or does he interfere for Shaler?”
There was no answer.