When at nine o’clock that evening Mr. Ames returned from his conference with the principal, he found his study occupied by Bert, Harry, Cameron, and Cotton, who for the better part of an hour had impatiently awaited his return and the doctor’s decision in regard to the playing of the right half back. Mr. Ames’s report was disappointing to Harry, who had hoped for an affirmative decision, and agreeable to Bert, who had feared the worst. The doctor, explained Mr. Ames, would leave the decision to the school. A meeting would be called for to-morrow evening, the case would be put before the fellows by Mr. Ames and a majority vote would decide the matter.

“Good!” cried Bert. “We’ll win!”

He spent the next day, as did other members of the team, in securing support for his side. Cameron himself, however, took no part in the proceedings; in fact, to see him one would have thought him the last person in school to be interested by what was going on.

At half-past seven, the hour set for the meeting, the hall was filled to the doors. Even the “towners,” who as a rule were not to be dragged back to the academy after supper, were present in force. In fact, it is safe to say that every student physically able to reach Academy Hall was on hand when Mr. Ames called the meeting to order.

Just as quiet prevailed, a newcomer arrived, and made his way up the center aisle to the platform. There was a long moment of breathless surprise; then the clapping began and grew to a veritable tempest of applause. Never before since his connection with Beechcroft had Dr. Lambert attended a meeting of the students, save at commencement time, and the fellows were at once surprised and flattered. The doctor, too, seemed a bit surprised, probably at the length and vigor of the applause, but whether he felt flattered I cannot say. Mr. Ames lifted a chair to the platform for him and he subsided into it gravely, folded his arms and looked slowly about the room. With the doctor’s advent the meeting seemed to take on a more serious aspect, the question to be decided suddenly assumed a larger importance, and the fellows presented an attentiveness so respectful and silent as to appear almost alarming.

Mr. Ames presented the case briefly and fairly, and ended by stating that the decision rested with the fellows. “If,” he concluded, “you honestly believe that Cameron should be permitted to represent the academy a week from to-morrow, you will vote so. On the other hand, if you honestly think that he should not be permitted to play, you will vote so. The sentiment of the majority will be accepted by Dr. Lambert as the sentiment of the school, and will be accepted as final. We will have a standing vote, if you please.”

“One moment, please.” Dr. Lambert held up his hand toward the instructor and arose from his chair. There was a slight clapping of hands which died out as the principal walked to the front of the platform.

“I wish to say,” began the doctor, “that your decision this evening will decide a question of more importance than whether Mr. Cameron is to play football for you, which, while it probably seems to you to be of great moment, is of really little consequence. I understand that without the services of Mr. Cameron, you may be beaten in your game of football, but that would not be a very grave calamity. I believe this school has been beaten before, and we are alive to tell the tale. I hope you will win. I know very little about the game, but I intend to be on hand a week from to-morrow, if my duties will allow, and learn something about it; and, naturally, I should prefer to witness a victory rather than a defeat.

“But there are two ways of securing victory. One way is by fair means, honestly, aboveboard; the other way is by unfair methods, by questionable tricks, by deceitful subterfuge. As far as I am concerned personally, I should prefer to witness an honorable defeat rather than a victory won by underhand methods. I hope you all would. Note, if you please, that I am not inferring that you have any intention of sacrificing honor to the lust of winning. I make no such charge. I know so little of athletics, that I do not pretend to be able to judge infallibly the intricate points involved. I am leaving such judgment to you. And whatever your decision may be, I shall accept it.

“Mr. Ames has spoken to you this evening of what he calls school spirit. What I understand by school spirit is the moral attitude taken by the school as a body in regard to the problems, large and small, which daily present themselves in school life. School spirit is an important factor, I might almost say the most important factor, of an institution of learning. Handsome buildings, a capable teaching corps, liberal endowments, beautiful surroundings, all these may fail to create a good school so long as the school spirit is wrong. A faculty may lay down laws and enforce them, prescribe rules of conduct for study hours and recreation hours, watch, guide, and instruct, and yet fail miserably in the creation of a perfect school. Those laws and rules, that guidance and instruction, must have the spirit of the school back of them, or else they are worth no more than the paper they are inscribed upon. The student is the school; if he cares less for the benefits to be attained by faithful attention to his studies than he does to the pleasure and fleeting distinction to be won in athletics, the school will not thrive for any length of time; if he holds the end to be of more importance than the means, either in the schoolroom or on the athletic field, the school will never attain to a position of honor among institutions of its kind.

“School spirit is the foundation, then. And school spirit is of the students, not of the faculty. The faculty may influence it, it cannot form it. It is so intangible that the cleverest faculty cannot lay its hand upon it and say, ‘Here it is; I will mold it to suit me.’ It is a tree toward which the faculty plays the part of gardener. Its growth is its own. The gardener may aid it or stunt it; he may, with infinite pains, extending over a long period, direct the growth of the branches, but that is as much as he can do; for when all is said, he is only the gardener, and the tree is Nature.

“The spirit of the school is as vital here as elsewhere. And when I said a few moments ago that your decision this evening would decide a matter of more consequence than the fate of Mr. Cameron in regard to the football game, I meant that you would determine how the spirit of your school stands with regard to athletics. If you say to-night that it stands in favor of virtually hiring athletes to win your games for you—mind, I do not say whether this is right or wrong; you are to decide that for yourselves—then you have committed it to a sentiment which is likely to influence it for some time. In short, you will be, I firmly believe, deciding not alone for this year, but for several years to come. That is all I have to say.”

The doctor bowed gravely and took his seat again. There was a slight clatter of applause which speedily died away for want of support. Mr. Ames glanced questioningly at the principal. The latter nodded, and the coach arose again.

“As I put the question, those in favor of the motion will arise and remain standing until counted. Mr. Foote, will you kindly take the left of the aisle?”

The physical director frowned through his glasses in a surprised manner, nodded his head, and stood up uninterestedly.

“Those in favor of allowing Mr. Cameron to play will rise,” directed Mr. Ames.

There was a shuffling of feet, and here and there throughout the meeting fellows arose, some hesitatingly, some briskly, and stood to be counted. On a bench near the front Hansel and Phin were the only ones who remained seated, while beside them Bert, Harry, Royle and other members of the first and second teams were on their feet. Cameron, at the end of the next bench, kept his place, viewing the proceedings with a perplexed frown. After all, he was a modest chap, and all this fuss and turmoil seemed to him very silly. If they didn’t want him, why not say so? Bert, glancing over the hall, looked at first bewildered, then angry. Mr. Ames turned questioningly to Mr. Foote.

“Seventeen,” said the latter wearily.

“And thirty-five here,” said Mr. Ames. “In all fifty-two. Be seated, please. Now those opposed will kindly stand up.”

It was unnecessary to count them, but the count was made, nevertheless.

“A total of seventy-eight,” announced Mr. Ames. “There appears to be no doubt as to the sense of the meeting.” He turned to Dr. Lambert. “Did you wish to say anything more?”

The principal shook his head.

“May I speak, sir?” It was Cameron.

“I believe there’s no objection,” responded Mr. Ames.

Billy moved out into the aisle and faced the meeting, rather red of face and somewhat embarrassed of manner, but doggedly.

“I just want to say,” he began in a low voice that grew louder as he gained confidence, “I just want to say to you fellows that it’s all right as far as I’m concerned. I want to do what’s right. If you think I oughtn’t to play, why, that’s enough for me. I want to be fair and square all around. You fellows have paid sixty dollars of my tuition for me, and I’m much obliged to you. But I’d like to have you know that I mean to pay it back to you just as soon as I can, because you expected me to play in the Fairview game, and I’m not going to do it. I don’t want to take money and not deliver the goods.

“I don’t believe my not playing is going to make all the difference you fellows think. We’ve got a good team and we ought to lick the—” Billy glanced toward Dr. Lambert—“we ought to beat Fairview without much trouble. If I can’t play I can help things along, I suppose, and I’ll do it all I know how. And—and I guess that’s all. Thank you.”

He squeezed his way back to his seat amid a roar of applause that lasted several moments. When it subsided Spring was asking recognition, and Mr. Ames nodded to him.

“Mr. Chairman and—and fellows,” began Spring eagerly, “it seems to me that Cameron shouldn’t be allowed to pay back that money. He’s played all the fall, in every game, and it seems to me he’s earned it already. And if he takes hold, as he offers to do, and helps the coaches, he will have more than earned it. I don’t believe there’s a fellow here to-night who doesn’t honor Cameron for a fine, plucky player, and a good, honest fellow. And I think he ought to understand that, in spite of—of circumstances, we’re right with him. And I’d like to propose a good big cheer for him!”

And so the meeting ended, incongruously enough, with the spectacle of a fellow who had just been barred out of the football team being cheered to the echo!

For two days Bert was hopeless and glum. But by Monday he began to cheer up again. The showing of the team, composed as it had been almost entirely of second string players, in the game with Parksboro had been highly satisfactory, and this, combined with the fact that Billy Cameron was coaching the half backs, and Lockhard, who was slated for his position, in particular, with evident success, brought encouragement to Bert. Besides Cameron several graduates put in an appearance Monday and Tuesday and assisted with the coaching. Interest and excitement grew with each passing day until on Friday night, what with the mass meeting and the old boys who were sprinkled through the dormitories, sleep in any respectable amount came to the eyes of but few.

Saturday dawned bright and crisp, an ideal day for the middle of November. The trees were bare of limb, and the beech leaves which for long had lain huddled in drifts along the walks and roads, had lost their pale golden hue. But the sky was fair, the sun shone brightly, and in warm nooks and corners the grass yet held its color.

From the station to the academy, almost every house and store proved its loyalty by the display of light blue. Before the little white house across from the Congregational church, behind whose sitting-room window Mrs. Freer, quite recovered from her illness, sat and sewed and watched the passing with smiling eyes behind their spectacles, a Beechcroft banner had fluttered valiantly since early dawn, placed there by Phin ere he had started on his morning round of the furnaces in his charge.

At ten Phin showed up at 22 Prince, a knot of pale blue ribbon in his lapel. He found Bert and Hansel in and for a while the three sat and won the game and lost it, and won it again many times. Then Harry demanded admittance, and strode in bearing, what at first looked like a flag of truce, but which on second sight proved to be a white sweater.

“There you are,” he cried, tossing the garment at Hansel. “There’s your old ill-gotten gains. Hope it gets you into as much trouble as it has me!”

“I’d forgotten all about it,” said Hansel truthfully. “And I’m not going to take it.”

“Suit yourself,” answered Harry with a shrug. “I’m through with it.”

“What it is and all about it?” demanded Bert. Harry explained the one-sided wager whereby Hansel was to come into possession of the white sweater if Cameron didn’t play in to-day’s game.

“But I don’t intend to take it,” said Hansel earnestly. “It doesn’t seem right; seems as though I was profiting by Cameron’s misfortune.”

“Don’t worry about Billy,” said Harry. “He’s as chipper as a lark; says if Lockhard plays the game the way he’s taught him to, he won’t mind not playing himself!”

“I tell you what, Harry!” exclaimed Hansel.

“All right; what?”

“Why, you won’t keep it and I won’t take it, so give it to Cameron.”

“Billy?”

“Why not? I’ll bet he hasn’t got a good sweater to his name.”

“Brilliant youth!” cried Harry, bolting for the door. “I’ll do it!”

Lunch was served to the team at half-past eleven, and at half-past twelve they were sent to stroll around the grounds. The game was to begin at two, but long before that hour the stands were filled, and the ropes behind the side lines were sagging under the pressure of the spectators unable to secure seats. The light blue of Beechcroft and the red and blue of Fairview were everywhere in evidence, and waved and fluttered when, at a few minutes before two, the teams trotted on.

There was ten minutes of practice, the rival captains met in the center of the field and watched a coin spin upward and down in the sunlight, the teams arranged themselves over the faded turf, with its glistening new lines of whitewash, there was a moment of quiet, broken by the shrill pipe of a whistle, and the big game had begun.