"You had been injured in a mass play and were left alone, for the moment, laid out upon the ground. No one seemed to see you as the play continued. But Dick was watching your every move, and when he saw you were injured he voluntarily arose from his seat and rushed down the aisle to a place opposite to where you were and was about to go out on the field, when the Princeton trainer rushed out upon the field and stood you on your feet, and as Dick came back, he took his seat in the Yale grandstand. Yale men knew then where his interest in the game lay."
After Arthur Poe had kicked his goal from the field, Princeton men lost themselves completely and rushed out upon the field. In the midst of the excitement, I remember my brother, George, coming out and enthusiastically congratulating me.
CHAPTER XXII
LEST WE FORGET
Marshall Newell
There is no hero of the past whose name has been handed down in Harvard's football traditions as that of Marshall Newell. He left many lasting impressions upon the men who came in contact with him. The men that played under his coaching idolized him, and this extended even beyond the confines of Harvard University. This is borne out in the following tribute which is paid Newell by Herbert Reed, that was on the Cornell scrub when Newell was their coach.
"It is poignantly difficult, even to-day, years after what was to so many of us a very real tragedy," says Reed, "to accept the fact that Marshall Newell is dead. The ache is still as keen as on that Christmas morning when the brief news dispatches told us that he had been killed in a snowstorm on a railroad track at Springfield. It requires no great summoning of the imagination to picture this fine figure of a man, in heart and body so like his beloved Berkshire oaks, bending forward, head down, and driving into the storm in the path of the everyday duty that led to his death. It was, as the world goes, a short life, but a fruitful one—a life given over simply and without questioning to whatever work or whatever play was at hand.
