"He has thrown up the sponge and taken the count," said Duke Yardly, who was addicted to sporting terms. "Poor old Doc! Well, I suppose this knocks our football game in the head."
"Not at all!" exclaimed Frank quickly. "We'll play it. Riverview doesn't close until to-morrow. To-morrow lasts until midnight The game will be over by six, consequently we are a recognized school until after the game, and when we beat Milton Academy, as we're going to, we'll be the champions of the Interscholastic League—for about a minute!" and he laughed mirthlessly.
"Sure we'll play!" declared Andy, and gradually the feeling of despondency wore off in a measure, for the boys were all healthy lads and sport appealed to them.
"But we won't give up until the last whistle!" said the elder Racer lad.
"No, indeed!" agreed his brother. "And, win or lose, we'll have some fun to-morrow night. We'll play no end of jokes——"
"Say, you'd joke if Rome was burning, wouldn't you?" asked Frank.
"Don't know. Never had a chance to try," answered Andy, with a grin.
As it was Saturday there were no lectures, but the usual morning devotional exercises were held in chapel. The doctor read a selection from one of the grand old psalms, and if his voice faltered at times, and if his eyes were dim, who shall say that in the crowd of boys who listened to him, thoughtless as they might be at times, there were not some who also felt a mist of tears obscure their vision.
"I presume you have all heard the news," said Dr. Doolittle, as the final hymn was sung, "I have nothing to add to the notice I posted. I bid you all good-by," and he turned aside, while Professor Hardin placed his arm about the venerable figure and led the head of the school from the platform.
There was, necessarily, a period of sadness when the boys filed out of chapel, but it soon passed away. Their young minds were tuned to pleasure, and as there was yet much to be done to get the gridiron and stands in readiness for the day's game they busied themselves about it.