“Do we? There’s a basketball game at the Gym, and after that a student play in the Auditorium. Then Bill wants us to drop in at his house and get acquainted there.”
“But son, it’s seven now, and at home I always try to be in bed by nine. Why—”
A tap on the door interrupted his protests.
“Excuse me,” came a voice from the hall. “Game begins early tonight on account of the play. We’ll have to hurry.”
They found the Gymnasium crowded from floor to roof, with just enough space left for the ten lithe, active young fellows who were already dashing back and forth between the baskets. As the visitors worked their way to the balcony, a slender athlete in white and gold dropped the ball neatly through the hoop, and bam!—an explosion of voices shook the rafters so that Father clutched at his guides and suddenly remembered that a doctor had once warned him about his heart.
“What—what happened?” he gasped.
“First score for Idaho, sir. Looks like a tight game.”
And it was a tight game. Time and again the score was tied. Then another Idaho player would find the basket and pandemonium would break loose once more. A thrilling last-minute rally brought Idaho to the front and the game was won just as the timer’s gun cracked.
The boy was radiant, breathless. His new friends could speak only in whispers.
“Physical Director over there,” one of them pointed. “Greatest football coach in the Northwest. Like to meet him?”