“That’s good. Then he likes it down there?”
“Yes. He’s going in for baseball. Hopes to pitch on the freshman team, but I don’t know.”
“You didn’t play against the Tiger?”
“No, there wasn’t any need of me. Yale had it all her own way.”
“She won’t to-morrow.”
“Wait and see.”
Thus they talked until Chet, knowing that Andy must want to get rest, in preparation for the gridiron battle, took his leave, promising to see his friend again.
The stands were a mass of color—blue like the sky on one side of Yale Field, and red like a sunset on the other. The cheering cohorts, under the leadership of the various cheer leaders, boomed out their voices of defiance.
Out trotted the Yale team and substitutes, of whom Andy was one. Instantly the blue of the sky seemed to multiply itself as a roar shook the sloping seats—the seats that ran down to the edge of green field, marked off in lines of white.
“Come on now, lively!” yelled the coaches, hardly making their voices heard above the frantic cheers.