The Saturday before Thanksgiving dawned bleak and gray and cold and by three o’clock, for which hour the game between the School Team and the Independents was set, there was a biting north wind blowing across the field and the heavy clouds were scurrying overhead. It was football weather, and only the spectators found fault with it. On the side-lines it was chilly waiting, and fellows wore their heaviest clothing and stamped up and down to keep warm.

There was a hearty cheer for the Independents as that team trotted down from the gymnasium and squirmed through the line of impatient students, and a less enthusiastic one for the School Team when it followed a minute or two later. The teams warmed up for ten minutes and then Mr. Osgood, who had accepted the office of referee, summoned the captains to the center of the field. Rob won the toss and took the east goal and a minute later the play began.

For the first few minutes the School Team had the better of it, the Independents’ plunges at the line being stopped without great difficulty. Three downs failed to net the distance and the ball went to the School Team on the opponent’s forty yards. An attempt at the center brought no gain and Law punted. Deering caught the ball on his fifteen yards and made ten across the field before he was downed, Evan interfering brilliantly for the runner. The Independents tried the School line again and again lost on downs, this time by a bare half-yard. The School Team made first down with three plunges through the wings and things looked bad for the defenders of the east goal. But on their fifteen yards the Independents held stubbornly and recovered the ball, and on third down Deering punted to mid-field. The ends were under the pigskin all the way and Miller, School quarter, was downed for no gain. After that, for the rest of the twenty minute half, the ball see-sawed back and forth between one thirty yard-line and the other. There might have been a field-goal tried on each side had the wind been less strong. Under the circumstances neither team thought it wise to make the attempt.

Gus Devens played opposite Frank Hopkins and the audience watched the battle with keen relish. Perhaps Hopkins had a shade the better of the argument, for Gus was new at guard position. At center Jelly and Merrill were pretty evenly matched, although Jelly’s passing was more certain. The School Team’s line was pounds heavier to a man than their opponents, but, as Rob had predicted, the latter evened accounts by being much faster. On the whole, in that first period, the teams showed up about on a par, and it was evident that, barring flukes, neither team was likely to score on its opponent by straight foot-ball. There were a few fumbles on each side, but none proved disastrous. The half ended with the ball on the Independents’ thirty-seven yards in School’s possession.

The School Team trotted back to the gymnasium for the intermission, while Duffield conducted his charges down to the boathouse. There were a few minor injuries to be attended to, for the School players had been none too gentle. Jelly was blissfully proud of a swollen nose, Shaler had a cut over one eye and Powers had wrenched his shoulder. There was a five minute lecture by the coach and then they trotted back to the field.

The second half was different from the first, and the spectators knew that it was going to be from the very moment that the Independents got the ball on a fumble some three minutes after play started. Evan began to work the School’s ends, sending the runner outside of tackle for gain after gain until Hopkins found his wits and sent the backs to the rescue. Then came a short forward pass, Deering to Powers, and a twelve yard advance. Plunges at center helped but little, but Shaler got through right guard on a split-play for four yards. An on-side kick worked to perfection, and, while the audience shouted wildly, the two teams lined up on the School’s twenty yard-line. But a wide end run netted no gain, a plunge at right guard, with Shaler carrying the ball and the whole back-field behind him, realized only four yards, and then Deering fell back for a try at goal. The pass was good and the line held well enough, but the wind was too much for the kicker and the ball went wide.

School elected to put the ball in scrimmage from her twenty-five yards. Law and Simpson and Leary hammered the Independents’ line for short gains, but although they were able to get by the forwards the second defence piled them up. They made the distance once and then, with three to go on third down, Miller tried a quarter-back run and was thrown by Brimmer for a loss.

The Independents took up the march again, playing wide-open football and mingling line plunges with forward passes, delayed runs, fake kicks and other plays that made School’s head swim. It was brain against brawn now, and in the end brain won. Duffield had given his team plays that Hopkins had never thought of and hadn’t the slightest idea how to meet. The forward passes succeeded time after time, and when, down on the School Team’s thirty yards, Deering, standing back as though to try for a field-goal, passed the ball across to Rob and Rob threw it straight down the field into Powers’ waiting hands, there was no one near to stop the latter youth when he skipped nimbly over the goal-line and made the first and only score of the day.

Deering kicked goal, and after that it was all up with the School Team. Hopkins put in sub after sub in the hope of stemming the tide of defeat but all to scant purpose. In the last ten minutes the Independents seemed on the brink of a second touchdown after Evan had skirted the School’s left end for a twenty-odd yard run. But on the first play, the ball being then on School’s eighteen yards, Hover, who had taken Rob’s place at left half, fumbled and Reid fell on the ball. School punted out of danger and time was called before the Independents were again within striking distance of the opponent’s goal-line. Science and team-play (and, perhaps, psychology!) had won the day.

Things seethed that evening. There were rumors and counter-rumors. Hopkins refused to stand by the agreement made in mass-meeting; Hopkins had resigned the captaincy; Hopkins had quarreled with Prentiss and was going to join the Independents; Prentiss declared he was going to appeal to Doctor Farren; the School Team had dissolved after the game; Prentiss was so angry he wouldn’t speak and was going to leave school. It was all very breathless and exciting and since there was no study-hour on Saturday night, the fellows were free to discuss the rumors to their hearts’ content. Meanwhile in Mr. Osgood’s study a conference was under way. Present were the instructor, Hopkins, Prentiss, Wellington, Rob and Malcolm. Hopkins was depressed and discouraged, Prentiss silent and sullen. Hopkins however was ready to abide by the results of the game and, with Mr. Osgood acting as arbitrator, matters were soon settled. Coach Duffield was to have supreme authority. The Independent Football Association was to be disbanded at a meeting to be held Monday evening and the Independent first team and substitutes were to join the School Team. Hopkins was to remain captain, but since it was doubtful whether he would play in the Adams game save as a substitute for Koehler, Rob was to be field captain. Members of Hopkins’ team would be used in the Adams game whenever practicable, and those who did not get into that contest but had played against Overbrook were to receive their letters. Prentiss was to remain manager and Malcolm was to be assistant manager until the next election was held. At the end of an hour the conference broke up quite amicably, both Hopkins and Prentiss being glad to retain their positions and realizing that the Independents had used them leniently. The School in general was well satisfied with the arrangement when it learned of it, the Independents claiming victory all along the line. Some of the less promising members of the Independent second squad were disappointed, since with the advent of the members of Hopkins’ team their chances of getting into the Adams game were quite spoiled.

When Duffield arrived on Monday he found his hands full. He was anxious to strengthen his team wherever possible and so spent a good deal of time that might otherwise have been devoted to perfecting the team in trying out various players from Hopkins’ team. Hopkins himself was given a try at left guard, but didn’t make a showing good enough to warrant his substitution for Koehler. Merrill did well at center in Jelly’s place, but he lacked the other boy’s accuracy at passing the ball back. In the end the only change made was to give James’ place at left tackle to Tom Reid. The Second Team, however, saw numerous changes; and, as Duffield hadn’t the heart to dismiss any of the candidates at that late hour, a Third Team was formed. The rest of the afternoon’s practice was spent in signal work.

That evening the Independent Football Association held its last meeting and, amid great enthusiasm, voted to dissolve. Wellington and Rob and Pierce and several others made speeches and were cheered to the echo. And afterwards the meeting resolved itself into a parade that made the round of the buildings and sang foot-ball songs.

On Tuesday there was a blackboard talk in the gymnasium before practice, and afterwards Duffield made the fellows a little speech. “Now you fellows realize, of course,” he said, “that foot-ball here this season is in a pretty ragged condition. I came up here largely as a favor to Langton to coach his team. Now, at the last moment, I find that I’m expected to take hold and put you fellows in trim to win from Adams. That’s a big order. If I had started in at the beginning of the season it would be different, but I didn’t. I’ve never even seen Adams play, and all I know about her team is what I’ve read in the papers. But here I am, and as I can’t get out of it I’ll do my best. But you fellows have got to do your best too. There’s no two ways to that, I can tell you! You’ve got to buckle down and do a lot of hard work between now and Thursday, and when Thursday comes you’ve got to go in and play like the very dickens if you expect to win. I’d like to give you a lay-off to-morrow, but we can’t afford it. Not only that, but there will be signal-drill here to-night and to-morrow night at seven o’clock. Don’t forget that, please. Every fellow must attend.

“As near as I can learn, Adams has a rattling good team. She’s met with only one defeat this season. She has five of last year’s team with her, she has a good coach and she has developed a coaching system that’s been working pretty well—as you fellows here at Riverport ought to know. Her line is slightly heavier than ours and it’s just as quick. Her back-field is extremely good and we’ve got nothing on her there. And she’s got a quarter who is as good a general as there is on a school team to-day. So team for team it looks like a pretty even thing, with the odds slightly in favor of Adams. Of course on team-play she must be far more advanced than we are, for her men have been playing together for a full month while our team, as it will line up to-day, has never played together. I’m not trying to discourage you. We’re pretty well handicapped, I own, but we’re not beaten. These plays we’ve just gone over ought to help. Most of them are either quite new or are new variations of old plays. If you get so you can put them through right I shouldn’t be surprised to find that they bothered Adams a whole lot. Now it all depends on how you fellows take hold during the next two days. You must work hard and use your brains. I think we can learn a lot of football in two days if we make up our minds to it. Now, then, all out on the run.”

Practice went well that day. The cold weather still held and put snap into the players. To his surprise and secret distress Evan found himself on the side-line when the scrimmage began, with Miller in his place. Peeble followed Miller at quarter and still Evan adorned the bench. He got in finally for the last four or five minutes and Duffield smiled at the eager way in which he raced on to the field and pushed Peeble aside.

“I guess,” muttered the coach to himself, “I needed to be afraid of over-working him.”

In obedience to instructions, Evan began pulling off the new plays, and, although the Second knew them as well as the First, she couldn’t stop them. In three minutes of actual playing time the First scored the only touchdown of the day, Shaler being slammed through the line for the final three yards.

There was a good forty-five minutes of signal work in the gymnasium that evening, the players walking or trotting through the drill in canvas shoes. On Wednesday there was another long period of outdoor work in the afternoon and again signal-drill at night. At the end Duffield spoke to them.

“Well, fellows, work is over for this year. You’ve taken hold, most every one of you, in just the way I hoped you would. You’ve worked hard and conscientiously and I think you’ve learned a good deal. Just how much you have learned remains for you to show to-morrow. I can’t call you a wonderful team, for neither you nor I have had time to work wonders, but I think if you’ll all play the best you know how to-morrow the School won’t be disappointed in you.”

“I want you to go to bed early to-night and don’t think too much about the game. In the morning, if it’s a fair day, be out of doors as much as you can, but don’t try to do much walking. Keep quiet. If it’s stormy get out for a little while and then settle down in your rooms and read or play games. Be careful of your eating, too. Take a good breakfast and go light at dinner. That’s all, I guess. I’ll be on hand early to-morrow in case anything comes up. Good-night and good luck.”

Rob called for a cheer for the coach and it was given with a will. Outside a howling mob was waiting to escort them to the meeting in the assembly-hall, and all the way across the yard the cheers and songs challenged the twinkling white stars.

Both Rob and Evan were somewhat silent when, after the meeting had ended in a final burst of enthusiasm and they had retired to their room, they were making ready for bed. “Gee,” muttered Evan finally, “I hope I can sleep. I feel as though I had wheels inside me.”

“Same here,” said Rob. “I wish the game was over with.”

“So do I. No I don’t, either. I just wish—well, I just wish I was asleep.”

“Well, here goes the light, chum. Good-night.”

“Good-night,” responded Evan dismally.

It was very still. Through the window, from where he lay, Evan could see thousands of bright frosty stars sparkling in the sky. That meant fair weather to-morrow, he told himself, and a dry field. Then his thoughts, in spite of his utmost endeavors, went to the game, and presently he flopped over in bed and addressed the huddled form of his room-mate, seen dimly through the star-lit gloom:

“Say, Rob, in that number 13 play does Deering start with you around left end or does he interfere for Shaler?”

There was no answer.

“Well, what do you think of that?” whispered Evan. “Oh, well, if he can sleep I guess I can. Here goes.”

It didn’t seem that he really did sleep, for he was playing foot-ball in thought all night, but the next thing he knew Rob was calling to him and the room was flooded with morning sunlight.