"No it isn't," said Chub. "It's the meanest kind of an ending. You've done nothing and the other fellow's done nothing and you're no better off than you were when you started. We played eleven innings with Hammond year before last and quit six to six. My, but we were mad! And tired! I'd rather they'd licked us."
"Hope I get a show," muttered the other wistfully. He was a substitute end and only his lack of weight had kept him off the team.
"There's Cobb laying it down to 'em," whispered Chub. "Watch his finger; you'd think he was in class, eh? Any new men going in? Yes there's—No, it isn't, either. Blessed if every man isn't going back! Oh, hang!"
"Some of them won't be there long, I guess," said Roy.
"Well, I must go back and get some noise. The lazy chumps don't half cheer. Hope you get on, old chap. So long!"
Presently the Ferry Hill cheer was ringing across the field, and Chub, his coat thrown aside, was out on the side-line leading as only he could. Over the fading white lines the two teams arranged themselves. From the Hammond side came a last burst of noise. Spectators scurried back to points of vantage. The referee raised his hand.
"Ready, Ferry Hill?"
Jack answered "Ready!"
"Ready, Hammond?"
"All right," called the Cherry's right-end and captain.