“Har-vard, Har-vard, Har-vard! ’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! ’rah, ’rah, ’rah! ’rah, ’rah, ’rah! Har-vard, Har-vard, Har-vard! Team!”
Inside the coach there was a babel of voices. Members of the eleven leaned out and conversed jerkily with friends on the sidewalk. Valises and suit-cases were piled high in the aisle and held in the owners’ laps. The manager was checking off his list.
“Cowper?”
“Here.”
“Turner?”
“All right.”
“Truesdale?”
“Hey? Oh, yes; I’m here.” The manager folded the list. Then a penciled line on the margin caught his eye.
“Who’s Jameson? Jameson here?”